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^m          John  Br/kn 

LIBRARY 

OF  THE 

University  of  California 

Received  ^-ScZA^     ,  f^9l  • 

Accession  No.  /^  0  Ul %  .(fCTass  No.    ^S"^ 


;/ 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2007  with  funding  from 

IVIicrosoft  Corporation 


http://www.archive.org/details/fablesessayOObryarich 


FABLES  AND  ESSAYS 


JOHN    BRYAN 


V.\BR>V^ 


VOL.    I. 

^COMPLETE  IN  ITSELF^ 
FIFTH    THOUSAND. 


NEW   YORK 

THE  ARTS  AND  LETTRES  CO, 

1895 


COPYKIGHT,    1895,    BY   JOHN    BkYAN 

\_A//  rights  reservedly 

y  1  o  ^3 


Press  of  J.  J    Little  &  Co. 
Astor  Place,  New  York 


AUTHOR'S  NOTE. 


This  book  is  dedicated  to  two  ideas  which  are 
equally  inclusive  :  Liberty,  Justice. 

This  book  is  copyrighted  to  prevent  others  from 
selling  it  at  a  gainful  price. 

The  words  ''Vol.  I."  were  inserted  in  the  title- 
page  because,  while  this  book  was  going  to  press, 
the  author  produced  a  number  of  other  Fables, 
which  will  contribute  to  a  future  volume,  whether 
the  public  like  this  volume  or  not. 

The  author  would  be  pleased  to  receive  any 
sincere  approval  or  disapproval,  in  writing,  from 
the  readers  of  this  book,  addressed  in  care  of  the 
publishers. 


PREFACE. 


I  suppose  most  authors  publish  their  books  for 
about  the  same  reason  a  hen  lays  eggs — for  relief  to 
themselves.  Under  the  circumstances  the  most 
amiable  thing  I  can  do  is  to  humbly  beg  the  public's 
pardon  for  perpetrating  another  book  upon  it.  As  it 
is  not  intended  to  be  sold  for  profit  I  can  not  even 
plead  as  an  excuse  that  it  is  expected  to  fill  a  long 
felt  want.  Besides  I  should  be  much  obliged  to  the 
public  for  reading  it  at  all,  let  alone  pay  a  profit  on 
its  manufacture. 

What  if  Jesus  had  copyrighted  and  charged  a  fee 
for  his  Sermon  on  the  Mount  ? 

One  who  gathers  and  writes  news  is  worthy  of 
hire :  but  what  shall  we  say  of  the  author  who  but- 
ton-holes the  impatient  public  upon  the  street  and 
harangues  it,  and  then,  hat  in  hand,  begs  the  stroll- 
ing buffoon's  fee  ? 

Mr.,  Mrs.,  or  Miss  Reader,  I  respect  you;  and  I 
assure  you  if  I  could  see  you  coming  out  of  a  book- 


store  with  my  book  under  your  arm  I  should  almost 
feel  that  you  were  my  friend.  At  least  I  should  feel 
that  after  you  read  it  you  would  know  something  of 
me,  but  I  nothing  of  you,  which  would  be  friendship 
half  seas  over,  for  I  do  hope  you  will  like  such  part 
of  me  as  you  find  herein. 

I  expect  you  will  pardon  me,  for  you  know  as  well 
as  I  there  are  emergencies  in  nature  which  a  person 
can't  help:  there  are  times  when  a  thing  can  no 
longer  be  concealed,  and  publication  is  a  relief. 

I've  had  these  manuscripts  about  me  for  years  and 
tried  to  suppress  them  untill  those  who  knew  me 
gave  me  a  character  of  mystery  and  whispered  among 
themselves  that  they  expected  something  unusual 
from  me:  I've  even  "  sat  on  the  safety-valve  "  until 
I  knew  the  explosion  could  no  longer  be  delayed. 

I  even  got  my  hair  cut  quite  short  and  ordered 
fashionable  clothes :  but  all  to  no  purpose.  So  here 
I  am,  again  begging  your  pardon,  and  thanking  you 
in  advance  for  granting  it.  If  you  read  my  book  at 
all  I  shall  feel  that  I  have  not  exploded  in  vain. 

The  Author. 

For  additional  Preface  see  page  119, 


CONTENTS. 


Author's  Note 

Preface, 

>|  The  Donkey  and  His  Master, 
"^HE  Boy  and  the  Dog,      .... 

The  Horse  and  the  Elk,      .        .        .        . 

The  Lion  and  the  Peasant, 

The  Lily  and  the  Hollyhock,    . 

The  Musk-Rat  and  the  Hunter,     . 

The  Gray  Squirrel  and  the  Politicians, 

The  Maid  and  the  Fowls, 
^  The  Ant  gives  a  Reception, 

The  Carrion-Dog  and  the  Mastiff, 

The  God  and  the  Devil,       .         .        .        . 

Dogs  fighting  over  a  13one, 

"^HE   Fox    AND    THE    GeESE 

Reward  of  the  Gods,        .... 
The  Farmer,  the  She-Fox,  and  the  Wolf, 
The  Horse  in  Clover,       .... 

■^The  Begging  Monk, 

'^The  Cats  and  the  Sparrows,  . 


And  This  is  Love, 


PAGE 

iii 


5 
7 
9 

12 

14- 
i6 

i8 

21 
22 
24 
27 

33 
34 
39 
43 

45 
49 

52 
55 


Vlll 


The  Dog  and  His  Mutton, 

The  Hunter  and  thf  Rabbit, 

The  Rat  and  the  Rabbits, 

The  Just  Governor, 

The  Man  and  the  Fly, 

The  Luxurious  Cats, 

The  Pullet  and  the  Chicks, 

The  Genie  and  the  Valley, 

The  Waiting  Buzzards, 

The  Devil,  the  God,  and  the 

The  Dogs  and  the  Peasant, 

The  Cunning  Thief, 

Experience  against  Tears, 

The  Sheep  and  the  Shepherd, 

Every  Tree  Leans,     . 

The  Poisoned  Rats, 

The  Conceited  Donkey,     . 

The  Breachy  Cow, 

The  Cows  and  the  Bulls, 

^Fate's  True  Love, 
Supplementary  Preface,     . 

V  Boy-Talk 

The  Young  Robins,     . 
The  Puppy  and  Experience, 
A  Man  and  His  Trowsers, 
The  Women  who  saw  a  God, 
The  Fox  and  the  Wood-Duck, 
Do  They  Remember? 


Man, 


PAGE 

57 
60 
62 
73 
74 
75 
77 
79 
86 

87 
89 

91 

92 

93 

94 

95 

97 

100 

102 

106 

119 

121 

125 

132 

134 

135 

140 

146 


IX 


Nkver  a  Dream,  .... 

My  Harp  and  I, 

""^There  was  Love  in  Her  Eves, 

The  Heart  oe  My  Sweetheart, 

The  Lover's  Lay,        .         .         .       '. 

To  ,  ON  Her  Fieteenth  Bir 

Listening  Love, 

To  "Like  a  Harp," 

New  Year's  Greeting, 

jVIating-Day, 

To  A  Young  Lady,      .... 

Tou  touched  Me, 

Thou  art  My  Sea,      .... 

To  a  Lady, 

On  seeing  a  Reptile, 

To  A  Woman, 

John  Gandy  and  I,     . 

The  Hawk,  the  Crow,  and  the  Hen, 

The  Priest  and  the  Sage, 

1  ranquillitv, 

About  Woman 

S  About  Motherhood,        .... 

Do  Not  Sell, 

Fighting  for  a  Potato-Paich,     , 

The  Vain  Gardener,  .... 

The  Wife  of  a  W^olf,    .... 

The  Conspiring  Animals,  . 

Jupiter  and  the  Birds, 


PAGE 

.   147 

~    148 

.   151 

153 

•  155 
157 

.  158 

161 
.   162 

163 
.   164 

165 
.  167 

1 63 
.   169 

171 
.   172 

177 
.   17S 

180 
.   183 

187 
.   191 

192 

•  193 
195 

.   196 
200 


\y^  PAGE 

About  Marriage, 203 

Jupiter  and  the  Ants, 211 

The  Heifer  and  the  Roses, 212 

The  Ox  with  the  Silver  Flanks,        .        .        .       214 

In  a  Certain  Country, 218 

\The  Author  and  the  Reader 221 

The  Trees  and  the  Gardeners 224 

About  the  Fable, 228 

The  Newspaper — The  Theatre,       .        .        .        .231 

4  Two  Letters  to  Elza, 234 

^Tell  Me, 244 

\I'm  Tired, 245 


THE  DONKEY  AND  HIS  MASTER. 

A  donkey  who  was  employed  by  his 
master  to  carry  upon  his  back  great  sacks 
of  oats,  stopped  suddenly  one  day  upon 
the  highway. 

"  Go  on,  thou  beast,"  said  the  man. 

"  I  can  go  no  farther,"  brayed  the  don- 
key. 

''  Thou  ungrateful  beast,"  said  the  man, 
**  do  I  not  give  thee  work  by  which  thou 
dost  earn  thy  feed  ?  " 

"Alas,"  said  the  donkey,  '*  my  burdens 
are  so  heavy  and  my  feed  so  light  that  I 
am  too  weak  to  trudge  farther." 

"  If  thou  dost  not  go  on  I  shall  lose  the 


6 


market  for  my  grain.  Go  on,  or  I  will 
goad  thee  !  "  said  the  man. 

The  donkey  still  refused  to  proceed, 
whereupon  the  man  began  to  goad  him 
severely.  The  donkey  resented  this  by 
kicking  and  shaking  every  sack  of  grain 
from  his  back  to  the  ground,  which  so 
frightened  the  man  that  he  called  to  a 
passerby  for  help. 

There  was  a  kind  look  in  the  stranger's 
eyes  as  he  said  to  the  man : 

"  Thou  art  rightly  served  ;  the  donkey 
can  carry  the  whole  load  if  thou  puttest 
less  of  it  on  his-  back  and  more  of  it  in  his 
stomach." 

Moral  : 
The  solution  of  the    problem  between 
the  employer  and  the  employed. 


THE  BOY  AND  THE  DOG, 


>J^c 


A  half-grown  boy  was  promised  a  large 
piece  of  bread  and  butter,  with  sugar  and 
jelly  on  it,  if  he  would  perform  a  certain 
laborious  task. 

Having  well  performed  the  task  he 
went  out  on  the  steps  to  eat  his  bread 
and  butter.  He  sat  with  his  elbows  on 
his  knees  and  began  to  eat  with  character- 
istic voracity,  when  a  dog  came  and  sat 
before  him  and  looked  with  such  evident 
hunger  and  longing  that  the  boy  turned 
himself  to  the  left  to  avoid  the  pleadings 
of  the  dog. 

But  the    dog  again    placed   himself  in 


front  of  the  boy  with  some  propitiating 
wags  of  his  tail  and  a  still  more  begging 
look.  The  boy  now  turned  himself 
squarely  to  the  right,  the  bread  and  but- 
ter almost  sticking  in  his  throat.  Again 
the  dog  took  a  position  in  front  of  the 
boy.  Saliva  was  dripping  from  the  dog's 
jaws,  and  he  almost  leaped  toward  the 
boy,  so  great  was  his  evident  expectation 
and  desire. 

"  Damn  that  dog!  "  said  the  boy  as  he 
went  into  the  house  to  eat  his  bread  and 
butter. 

Moral  : 

One  who  is  sympathetic  can  not  enjoy, 
in  the  presence  of  the  poor,  what  he  him- 
self has  honestly  earned. 


THE  HORSE  AND  THE  ELK, 


>XKc 


An  Elk  who  was  browsing  upon  the 
scant,  dry  twigs  of  the  winter  forest,  was 
accosted  by  a  horse  who  peered  over  the 
fence  of  a  neighboring  field  : 

"You  look  hungry,  my  friend,"  said  the 
Horse. 

"I  am  both  hungry  and  lonesome," 
said  the  Elk. 

*'  It  is  about  what  you  deserve,"  said 
the  Horse;  *'why  don't  you  come  over 
into  the  fields  and  become  civilized?  " 

"  I  prefer  the  innocence  and  freedom  of 
the  forest,"  said  the  Elk. 


lO 

"  If  you  joined  our  society  and  sub- 
mitted to  our  rules,"  said  the  Horse, 
"you  would  be  fit  to  be  associated  with. 
I  am  really  ashamed  to  be  seen  talking 
with  you." 

**  You  addressed  me  first,"  said  the 
Elk,  "  and  since  you  opened  the  conver- 
sation, I  will  tell  you  a  bit  of  news. 
Over  by  the  edge  of  the  forest  yonder  I 
saw  two  men  coming  this  way  with  a 
halter  and  straps  and  chains.  I  heard  by 
their  conversation  that  one  had  just  bar- 
gained with  the  other  for  the  sale  of  a 
horse." 

''Alas!"  said  the  Horse,  "I  know  not 
who  will  be  my  master  or  where  my  home 
shall  be." 


11 

*'  I  may  be  uncivilized,  but  nobody 
owns  me,"  said  the  Elk  as  he  bounded 
away  through  the  forest. 

Moral  : 
Liberty    is    preferable    to    all    things 
else. 


THE  LION  AND  THE  PEASANT, 


A  Lion  once  fell  in  love  with  the 
daughter  of  a  Peasant.  When  he  de- 
sired to  visit  her  the  Peasant,  who  had 
recently  lost  his  valuable  watch-dog,  con- 
sented to  his  visits  on  condition  that  the 
Lion  should  protect  the  house  from  some 
robbers  who  lived  in  a  mountain  near  by. 

In  pursuance  of  this  arrangement,  the 
Lion  was  often  about  the  house,  where  he 
behaved  with  subdued  and  becoming 
manners  owing  to  his  great  affection  for 
the  daughter. 

The  Peasant  soon  grew  familiar  with 
the  Lion  and  ordered  him  to  keep  at  a 


13 

distance  from  the  house,  saying  that  when 
he  needed  his  protection  he  would  call 
him. 

The  Lion  started  away,  but  when  he 
was  near  the  edge  of  the  forest  the 
peasant  called  to  him  with  great  earnest- 
ness to  come  back,  as  the  robbers  were 
attacking  the  house. 

'*  Make  your  own  defense,"  said  the 
Lion;  "I  am  not  a  dog  that  I  can  be 
scolded  away  and  whistled  back  again." 


THE  LILY  AND  THE  HOLLY-HOCK, 


>J^c 


*^Why  do  you  keep  nodding  to  every 
passerby?"  said  a  Holly -hock  to  a 
Lily. 

"  The  wind  bends  me,"  said  the  Lily  ; 
''but  really  I  think  my  nodding  as  be- 
coming as  your  stiff,  haughty  man- 
ner." 

**  My  stalk  is  so  rigid  I  can  not  bend," 
said  the  Holly-hock,  "but  I  wouldn't  nod 
at  everybody  as  you  do  if  I  could." 

The  gardener,  who  was  passing  by, 
said  to  his  son:  "I  think  the  frost 
to-night  will  cut  down  all  our  lilies  and 
holly-hocks." 


IS 

Moral  : 
We  should  neither  be  vain  of  our  own 
nor  envy  the  natural  qualities  of  others  ; 
for  nature  gave  them  and  she  will  soon 
take  them  away. 


The  Musk-Rat  and  The  Hunter, 


»:♦:< 


A  Musk-Rat,  to  escape  the  Hunter, 
took  refuge  in  a  deep  hole  which  he  had 
dug  in  the  bank  of  a  pond.  When  the 
Hunter  began  to  dig  at  the  entrance  of 
the  hole,  the  Musk-Rat  came  forward 
near  enough  to  be  heard  and  said  to  the 
Hunter : 

"  Why  do  you  dig  at  the  entrance  of 
my  house  ?  " 

''I  want  to  get  you,  Mr.  Musk-Rat," 
said  the  Hunter. 

"  What  do  you  want  of  me  ?  "  said  the 
Musk-Rat. 

**I    want    your    skin,"    said    the   man, 


17 

''and  if  you  will  only  come  out  you  will 
save  me  a  great  deal  of  trouble  in  digging 
you  out." 

''  My  skin  is  worth  more  to  me  than  it 
is  to  you,"  said  the  Musk-Rat,  "and  if 
you  get  it  you  will  have  to  dig  for  it,  and 
dig  faster  at  this  end  of  my  hole  than  I 
do  at  the  other  end." 

''  The  sly  devil,"  said  the  man  to  his 
son,  "  let  us  go  home ;  his  skin  is  not 
worth  the  labor." 

Moral  : 

1.  Do  not  facilitate  the  efforts  of  those 
who  seek  to  injure  you. 

2.  Resist  your  enemies  to  the  last,  and 
they  will  often  abandon  their  attack  dis- 
heartened. 

3.  The  wit  of  the  weak  often  defeats 
the  determination  of  the  strong. 


The  Gray  Squirrel 

AND  THE  Politicians. 


Two  politicians  of  different  parties  went 
into  a  forest  to  hunt  squirrels.  Having 
treed  a  squirrel,  one  of  them  stood  on 
one  side  of  the  tree  and  one  on  the  other. 
One  of  them  at  last  drew  aim  at  the 
squirrel,  when  the  latter  cried  out : 

"What  are  you — Republican  or  Demo- 
crat?" 

**  Republican,"  said  the  man  ;  **  what  is 
that  to  you  ?  " 

"  It  is  a  good  deal  to  me,  sir,*'  said  the 
Squirrel;  "if  you  were  a  Democrat  you 


19 

might  shoot  all  day  at  me,  for  they  never 
hit  a  mark  they  aim  at." 

"  That  Squirrel  is  too  smart  to  be 
killed,"  said  the  man,  lowering  his  gun. 

By  this  time  the  other  man  took  aim, 
when  the  Squirrel  called  out: 

**  Democrat  or  Republican  ?  " 

"Democrat,"  said  the  man. 

*'Then  you  had  better  shoot  at  that 
black  squirrel  in  the  other  tree  yonder." 

As  the  Democrat  turned  his  head  to 
look  for  the  black  squirrel,  the  gray 
squirrel  crept  down  the  trunk  of  the  tree 
into  a  hole  and  was  safe. 

*'  Hello!  "  cried  the  two  men,  at  once 
standing  together :  '*  Come  out,  Mr. 
Squirrel,  and  we  shall  be  friends.  We 
won't  shoot." 


20 

*' Honor  bright?"  barked  the  Squirrel 
from  behind  the  side  of  the  hole. 

"  Honor  bright,'*  said  the  men. 

At  this  the  Squirrel  came  to  the  door 
of  the  hole. 

'*  Why  did  you  ask  our  politics?"  said 
the  men. 

*'  I  did  it/'  said  the  Squirrel,  **  to  gain 
time  to  escape.  My  old  father  used  to 
say  that  he  could  tell  a  Democrat  *  by  the 
way  he  shot ; '  but  you  can't  do  it  now. 
As  you  are  both  politicians  I  can't  trust 
either   of   you.     Good-day,    gentlemen." 

Moral  : 
Between  the   two   parties   the   people 
have  a  hard  time. 


THE  MAID  AND  THE  FOWLS, 

A  young  cock,  who  had  been  brought 
but  recently  into  the  farm-yard,  asked  an 
older  cock  why  it  was  that  when  the  Far- 
mer, who  was  master  of  all  the  lands, 
came  to  his  door  the  fowls  were  indiffer- 
ent toward  him  or  ran  away  in  fear  ;  but 
when  the  Maid  came  to  the  door  they 
ran  to  her  in  great  numbers. 

'*  She  often  comes  to  the  door  to  shake 
the  table-cloth,"  said  the  older  cock. 
Moral  : 

1.  Generous  persons  will  have  many 
friends. 

2.  We  often  get  credit  for  generosity 
when  we  do  not  deserve  it. 


THE  ANT  GIVES  A  RECEPTION, 


»j»;c 


An  ant  whose  parents  had  been  very 
poor  married  a  male  who  by  his  shrewd- 
ness had  accumulated  great  stores.  She  set 
great  merit  upon  herself  for  this  reason, 
and  amid  her  plenty,  determined  to  give 
a  reception  to  all  the  other  ants. 

She  with  several  others,  stood  up  in  a 
row  and  invited  the  rest  to  pass  along  be- 
fore her  and  make  a  sign  of  honor  to  her. 

While  this  reception  was  in  progress  a 
great  shadowy  object  came  moving  along 
the  road,  making  so  much  dust  and  noise 
that  most  of  the  company  were  wont  to  run 
away. 


23 

"  Stay,"  said  the  ant,  ''  it  is  only  an  ele- 
phant who  is  coming  to  my  reception." 

Moral  : 
The  conceit  of  those  who  give  receptions 
is  unbounded. 


The  Carrion-Dog 

AND  THE  Mastiff. 


>J<Kc 


A  dog  who  was  very  fond  of  carrion 
met  a  re3pectable  Mastiff  who  was  stand- 
ing in  the  open  gate  of  his  Master's  yard. 

"  Hello,  Mastiff,"  said  the  Carrion-dog, 
*•  I've  just  struck  the  scent  of  a  royal  bit 
of  carrion.  Don't  you  smell  it  ?  Come, 
let's  follow  it  up." 

''  No ;  I  don't  smell  it,  and  I  wouldn't 
follow  it  up  if  I  did,"  said  the  Mastiff. 

**  Whiff — whiff,"  sniffed  the  Carrion- 
dog,  *'  that's  a  glorious  breeze ;  I  can 
follow  it  straight  as  a  bee  line.  I  prom- 
ise you  the  tid-bits.  Besides  if  there  are 
any    common    curs     who    have     already 


25 

scented  It,  they  will  be  frightened  away 
by  your  massive  strength." 

**  I  will  not  go  along  with  you,  sir ;  also, 
I  would  thank  you  to  not  stand  so  close 
to  me  ;  your  breath  is  very  bad,  and  I 
have  been  taught  to  avoid  those  whose 
breath  smells  of  what  they  eat  and 
drink." 

About  this  time  the  dog-catcher,  who 
was  passing  by,  threw  his  net  over  the 
Carrion  -  dog  and  dragged  him  yelping 
and  struggling  away.  The  Mastiff  re- 
mained standing  at  the  gate  until  the 
dog-catcher  was  quite  out  of  sight,  then 
he  turned  and  walked  slowly  to  meet  his 
kind  Master  who  came  down  the  steps. 

*'I  have  seen  and  heard  it  all,"  said  the 
Master,  patting  the  Mastiff  on  the  head. 
*'  Remember  this 


26 

Moral  : 

Justice  is  often  upon  the  heels  of  the 
wicked  while  they  ply  their  nefarious 
ways." 

Or,  ''Every  one  to  his  taste  and  also 
to  his  fate/' 


THE  GOD  AND  THE  DEVIL 


A  god  and  a  devil  met  each  other 
while  they  were  traveling  through  space 
and  began  to  dispute  as  to  their  com- 
parative strength  and  powers.  They 
soon  decided  to  alight  upon  some  planet 
of  the  universe  and  put  themselves  to 
comparative  tests  to  settle  the  dispute. 

Just  at  that  moment  the  clouds  of  earth 
seemed  to  separate  and  revealed  that 
part  of  the  earth's  surface  called  America. 
With  one  accord  they  sped  through  the 
opening  and  chose  the  United  States  as 
their  field. 

Both  being  immortal,  years  or  centuries 
of  time  were  but  as  moments. 


Each  tried  his  strength  upon  the  earth. 
One  quaked  the  earth  at  New  Madrid, 
the  other  at  Charleston.  They  tried 
their  strength  upon  the  winds  ;  one  de- 
stroyed Grinnell,*  the  other  whirled  Pome- 
royf  into  ruins. 

Unable  to  decide,  they  held  a  confer- 
ence and  agreed  to  test  their  powers 
upon  human  beings  themselves.  They 
began  to  respect  each  other  as  worthy 
opponents,  and  really  became  friends. 

The  devil  spoke  first,  saying  he  had 
heard  from  time  immemorial  that  his  an- 
cestor had  beguiled  the  first  woman — the 
mother  of  all  living,  by  assuming  the  dis- 
guise of  a  serpent. 

So  they  separated,  each  agreeing  to  re- 

*Grinnell,  Iowa,  Tornado,  June,  17,  1882. 
|Pomeroy,  Iowa,  Tornado,  July  6,  1893. 


29 

port  at  their  next  meeting  his  success 
or  failure  in  attempting  to  beguile  a 
woman. 

The  devil  saw  a  woman  walking  in  a 
garden.  He  assumed  the  form  of  a  ser- 
pent and  appeared  before  her  with  friendly- 
blandishments.  But  she  fled  from  him 
with  terror.  He  threw  himself  before 
her  whichever  way  she  fled.  She  turned 
each  time  with  dismay  and  was  almost 
given  up  to  despair  when  he  suddenly 
changed  himself  into  a  Priest,  who  seemed 
to  be  hunting  the  serpent  to  slay  it.  The 
woman  hastened  to  the  priest,  gave  her 
money  to  him,  threw  herself  into  his  arms 
and  yielded  up  her  will  to  him.  When 
night  had  come  he  left  her  sleeping. 
When  morning  awoke  her,  her  eyes  were 
dazzled  by  the  light,  her  hair  was  dishev- 


so 

eled,    and   there    was   a    stain    upon    her 
garment. 

"  O,  God,"  said  she,  *'how  horrible  was 
my  dream."  And  when  she  saw  the 
stain  upon  her  garment,  she  bowed  her 
face  into  her  hands  and  wept. 


The  god  saw  a  woman  in  her  bath,  and 
he  took  the  invisible  form  of  her  own 
thoughts.  He  whispered  to  her;  ''  Thou 
art  beautiful;  thou  shouldst  have  a  lover." 

And  when  she  was  walking  in  a  gar- 
den in  the  after  part  of  the  day  he  ap- 
peared before  her  as  a  beautiful  youth, 
like  unto  Apollo,  who  sat  under  a  bower 
reading  a  book.  And  when  he  heard  the 
rustle  of  her  garments  he  affected  to  be 
startled,    and    would    have    moved    away 


31 

had  she  not  spoken  and  held  him  by  her 
beauty.     She  blushed  and  said : 
**  Sir,  what  book  do  you  read  ?  " 
He  bowed  low  and   handed   it  to   her 
upon  the  fold  of   his    silken    robe.     And 
she   saw   it  was    "  The   Book   of  Love." 
She    returned    it    to    him,    and    by    her 
pleased  looks  he  knew  she  wished  him  to 
read  it  to  her.     They  sat  down  and  each 
held  a  side  of  the  book,  and  as  he  read, 
his  voice  was  sweet  and  tender ;  and  after 
a  while  there  were  tears  in  her  eyes,  and 
she  looked  down  lest  he  should  see  them. 
When  evening  was  come  he  touched  her 
hand  and  she  did  not  draw  it  back. 

He  arose  and  walked  away,  and  she 
followed  him  as  if  in  a  dream  farther  and 
farther  into  the  shades  of  the  night  and  of 
the  garden. 


32 

When  morning  awoke  her,  her  eyes 
were  dazzled  by  the  Hght,  her  hair  was 
disheveled  and  there  was  a  stain  upon 
her  garment. 

"  O,  God,"  said  she,  ''  how  beautiful 
was  my  dream."  And  when  she  saw  the 
stain  upon  her  garment,  her  face  was 
tranquil  and  happy,  for  she  knew  she  had 
been  touched  by  a  god. 

Moral: 
Shall  the  God  of  Love  or  the  Priests 
of  Religion  decide  the  destiny  of  Woman. 


DOGS  FIGHTING  OVER  A  BONE, 


>>«c 


Two  dogs  were  fighting  over  a  bone 
which  lay  on  the  ground  between  them. 

"  While  the  dogs  are  occupied  in  fight- 
ing," whispered  a  pebble  to  the  bone,  ''  is 
your  opportunity  to  run  away." 

**  Not  so,"  said  the  bone,  "for  if  I  run 
away  they  will  have  no  longer  cause  for 
combat,  and  one  of  them  will  pursue  me 
and  gnaw  me  quite  up.  So  long  as  they 
continue  to  fight  I  am  safe." 

Moral  : 
The  conflict  of  the  Catholics  and   the 
Protestants  over  the  Public  Schools. 


THE  FOX  AND  THE  GEESE, 


A  Fox  once  fell  in  love  with  a  fat 
young  goose  who  was  the  pride  of  her 
family.  He  desired  to  marry  her,  calcu- 
lating that  in  many  ways  the  alliance 
would  be  to  his  advantage  ;  for  he  knew 
she  would  be  a  fat,  tender  wife,  besides  he 
expected  it  would  give  him  ample  op- 
portunities to  carry  on  many  sly  depre- 
dations among  the  rest  of  her  flock. 

So  one  day  he  approached  old  Mr. 
Gander,  the  father  of  young  Miss  Goose, 
and  after  several  low  bows  and  gracious 
smiles,  he  proposed  for  her  in  marriage. 

Old  Mr.   Gander  wisely  concealed  his 


OK  THK 


■OTNIVERSITY 
3S  ^<LC/u]7oR»\L 


astonishment  that  this  well-known  enemy 
of  his  race  should  propose  for  his  daugh- 
ter ;  for  he  quickly  suspected  it  foreboded 
a  scheme  of  making  her  and  many  of  the 
flock  the  prey  of  Mr.  Fox. 

**  Have  you  spoken  to  my  daughter, 
sir?  "  said  old  Mr.  Gander  with  as  much 
dignity  as  he  could  command. 

''  I  have  not  spoken  to  her,"  said  Mr. 
Fox,  •*  but  I  have  long  admired  her,  and 
my  ancestors  have  always  had  a  liking  for 
geese,  sir." 

**  I  remember  well,  sir,"  said  old  Mr. 
Gander,  *•  your  noble  grandfather  came 
from  across  the  pond  and  took  a  cousin 
of  mine  to  be  his  wife  abroad  ;  but  once 
we  heard  of  her  being  unmercifully 
plucked,  and  after  that  we  have  not 
learned   what   became    of   her.     Do   you 


36 

wish  to  take  my  daughter  abroad  with 
you,  sir  ?  " 

**  On  the  contrary,"  said  Mr.  Fox,  •*! 
expect  to  be  so  gentle  and  gracious  that 
you  will  accept  me  among  your  own 
household." 

"  I  will  speak  to  my  daughter  and  her 
mother  concerning  the  matter  this  even- 
ing, and  report  our  decision  to-morrow," 
said  old  Mr.  Gander.  **  Good-day,  Mr. 
Fox." 

"Good- day,  Mr.  Gander,"  said  Mr. 
Fox,  as  he  turned  and  trotted  toward  the 
forest. 


The  next  day  Mr.  Fox'  met  old  Mr. 
Gander  in  the  pasture,  and  was  told  that 
if  he  would  call  at  the  great  Goose  House 
that  evening,  he  would  be  introduced  to 


37 

Miss  Goose,  and  receive  such  a  reception 
as  one  of  his  rank  and  kind  deserved. 
•'  My  daughter  has  long  admired  your 
beautiful  brush,"  said  old  Mr.  Gander, 
'*  and  I  have  no  doubt  that  if  you  behave 
becomingly,  this  will  be  her  wedding 
night," 

Mr.  Fox  was  greatly  pleased  and  prom- 
ised to  be  on  hand  at  the  proper  hour. 

It  was  arranged  that  Miss  Goose  should 
be  married  that  very  evening  to  young 
Mr.  Gander,  and  that  the  ceremony  should 
be  spoken  in  goose  language,  which  Mr. 
Fox  could  not  understand.  So  he  sat  up 
prim,  and  vainly  smiled  and  coiled  his 
brush  around  in  front  of  him,  and  looked 
on  with  apparent  great  interest. 

When  the  ceremony  was  complete,  and 
it  was  explained  to  Mr.   Fox   what  had 


38 

happened,  he  became  greatly  enraged 
and  declared  that  he  would  make  a  meal 
of  her  anyhow ;  whereupon  the  several 
ganders  flew  upon  him  and  the  geese  set 
up  such  a  cackling  that  the  farmer  came 
running  with  his  dogs  to  see  what  was 
the  matter,  and  catching  Mr.  Fox,  as  he 
thought,  in  the  midst  of  his  depredations, 
dispatched  him  instantly. 

Morals  : 

1.  Sometimes  by  experience  geese  be- 
come as  wise  as  foxes. 

2.  How  unwise  in  Mr.  Fox  to  not 
know  that  the  object  of  his  attentions  to 
a  goose  would  be  suspected  ;  and 

3.  How  foolish  in  him  to  expect  that  a 
goose  would  marry  any  one  but  a  gander. 

4.  The  wisest  are  sometimes  foolish  in 
love. 


REWARD  OF  THE  GODS, 


A  being,  whom  it  was  decreed  Jupiter 
should  send  upon  the  earth,  was  given  its 
choice  as  to  what  form  of  animal  it 
should  be  embodied  in.  In  order  to  form 
an  intelligent  decision,  the  being  asked  of 
Jupiter  such  knowledge  as  the  gods  only 
possess,  as  to  the  state,  degree,  and  char- 
acteristics of  the  various  forms  of  animal 
life  upon  the  earth.  Jupiter  suggested 
that  it  might  have  the  choice  of  becoming 
a  man  or  a  jack-ass.  "  If  you  become  a 
man,"  continued  Jupiter,  "you  will  have 
to  be  born  of  woman  ;  if  you  become  a 
jack-ass,  you  will  have  to  be  born  of  a 
gennette." 


40 

"  Permit  me,"  said  the  being,  "  to  see 
the  woman  and  the  gennette  so  that  I 
may  make  choice  of  a  mother." 

Jupiter  rolled  the  clouds  of  earth  back, 
so  as  to  make  one  small  window  through 
which  the  being  peered.  It  saw  a  woman 
in  her  bath,  who  was  as  beautiful  as 
Venus,  and  a  gennette  upon  the  street 
with  two  huge  baskets  of  fruit  strapped 
upon  her  sides,  and  a  skin  filled  with 
water  upon  her  crup. 

'*  Before  i  choose,"  said  the  being,  '*  I 
beg  one  other  privilege  :  permit  me  to  see 
a  man  and  a  jack-ass." 

Jupiter  rolled  the  clouds   away  again. 

The  being  looked  and  saw  a  man  who 
was  the  lover  of  the  woman  ;  the  muscles 
of  his  sides  were  bands  of  strength,  his 
thighs  were  like  pillars,  and  his    passion 


41 

was  like  a  god's  ;  but  his  eyes  were  full 
of  tenderness. 

The  being  also  saw  a  jack-ass  on  a  vil- 
lage common.  On  his  back  were  several 
rollicking  children,  and  some  clung  to  his 
tail ;  others  tugged  at  his  halter,  and  still 
others  worried  his  ears  as  he  ambled 
along. 

''  I  will  be  a  jack-ass,"  said  the  being. 

"  So  mote  it  be,"  said  Jupiter. 


After  30  years,  the  length  of  life  of  the 
jack-ass,  the  being,  having  completed  the 
decree  of  fate,  returned  to  Jupiter. 

"By  what  reason,"  inquired  Jupiter, 
"  didst  thou  choose  thy  condition  upon 
earth?" 

**  I  saw  in  the  eyes  of  the  gennette  and 
of  the  jack-ass,"  said  the  being,  *'  humil- 


42 

ity,  patience  and  forbearance ;  besides  one 
being  if  not  another  must  be  be  a  jack- 
ass on  earth,  and  I  had  as  good  a  right 
to  be  it  as  any." 

*'  Thy  wisdom  and  thy  charity  are  equal 
to  a  god's,"  said  Jupiter;  "henceforth 
thou  shalt  be  a  god." 

Moral  : 
The  god's  reward  men  for  making  jack- 
asses of  themselves. 


The  Farmer,  The  She-Fox 
AND  THE  Wolf, 


>XKc 


A  poor  and  hungry,  but  honest  she-fox 
once  went  boldly  to  a  farmer's  house,  and 
knocking  at  the  door  told  the  farmer 
frankly  of  her  great  want,  and  the  sore 
distress  of  her  young  at  home  in  the 
forest. 

The  weather  being  bleak  and  cold,  the 
farmer  commended  the  fox's  honesty  and 
compassionately  gave  her  a  supply  of 
food  for  herself  and  young. 

The  fox  came  daily  and  carried  away  a 
goodly  supply  of  food ;  but  after  many 
days  the  farmer  observed  that  she  re- 
mained as  lean  and  hungry  as  ever. 


44 

"  Take  your  gun,"  said  the  farmer  to 
his  son,  "and  watch  the  path  of  the  fox, 
and  see  if  you  can  solve  this  mystery." 

When  the  son  returned  he  said  to  the 
farmer : 

"  I  expect  the  she-fox  and  her  young 
will  now  get  fat,  for  I  have  shot  and  killed 
the  fat  wolf  who  daily  waylaid  and  robbed 
her." 

Moral  : 

1 .  The  honest  poor  are  often  made  so  by 
the  shrewdness  and  oppression  of  others. 

2.  See  that  what  thou  givest  to  the  poor 
does  not  go  to  fatten  some  rascal  who  robs 
them  of  that  thou  givest  them. 


THE  HORSE  IN  CLOVER. 


o\^c 


A  horse  stood  in  the  middle  of  a  field 
up  to  his  knees  and  up  to  his  eyes  in 
clover. 

His  form  was  round  and  shapely,  and 
his  coat  glossy  and  sleek,  his  tail  and 
mane  flowing  and  full,  his  hoofs  hard  and 
round,  his  ear  quick  and  versatile,  his 
eyes  bright  and  intelligent,  his  nostril 
dilated  and  sensitive,  his  lip  firm,  his  teeth 
white  and  young. 

He  brushed  the  bees  from  the  nodding 
clover  blossoms,  and  plucked  the  sweetest 
of  them  at  his  leisure  here  and  there.  It 
was  a  day  in  June,  and  the  sun  was  shin- 


46 

ing  and  the  murmur  of  a  brook  could  be 
heard  amid  some  leafy  trees  near  by. 

"  How  happy  am  I,"  said  the  horse,  "I 
toil  not  and  I  want  not." 

With  these  words  he  began  to  look 
around  him  and  question  why  his  life  was 
happy  within  and  plenteous  without ;  and 
which  of  these  was  the  cause  of  the  other. 

When  he  looked  around  to  enjoy  the 
landscape,  he  saw  on  every  side  of  his 
field  great  numbers  of  horses.  Many  of 
them  were  old  and  most  of  them  over- 
worked and  all  hungry  and  poor. 

His  first  impulse  was  to  throw  down 
the  fences  and  invite  them  all  into  his 
pasture. 

-  He  was  proceeding  to  carry  this  benev- 
olent feeling  into  action  when  a  call  from 
his  kind  master  stopped  him. 


47 

''  If  you  throw  down  the  fences,"  said 
his  master,  ''they  will  soon  devour  all 
this  luxuriant  clover  up  by  the  roots,  and 
you  will  be  as  poor  as  they." 

''But  I  can  share  my  plenty  with  them," 
said  the  horse. 

"Is  it  better,"  said  the  man,  "  that 
there  should  be  99  poor  horses  and  one 
fat  one,  or  100  poor  ones?" 

"  It  is  better  that  there  should  be  but 
99  poor  horses,"  said  the  horse,  "  but  how 
came  they  all  to  be  so  poor  and  I  so 
plenteously  provided  for?  " 

'•  Their  masters  have  robbed  them,  and 
if  you  gave  to  them  of  your  plenty,  their 
masters  would  rob  them  of  that  thou  gav- 
est  them,  and  they  would  remain  as  poor 
as  ever." 


48 

"  Alas,"   said   the    horse,    **  I    am    un- 
happy." 

Moral  : 

Giving  unto  the  poor  enriches  not  them, 
but  those  who  rob  them. 


THE  BEGGING  MONK, 


>>«c 


A  monk  who  belonged  to  a  very 
wealthy  order  went  forth  to  beg,  pleading 
great  poverty  and  distress  to  those  from 
whom  he  asked  alms.  He  met  a  butcher 
and  a  baker  to  whom  he  said  he  had  eaten 
nothing  for  many  days,  and  that  he  was 
almost  starved. 

''  How  is  it  thou  art  so  fat?  "  said  they 
as  they  drove  on  their  wagons. 

He  met  a  tradesman  and  said  he  had 
not  had  any  money  for  years,  even  from 
his  youth,  as  he  had  long  been  a  monk. 

"  I  have  no  money  to  give  thee,"  said 
the  tradesman,  at  the  same  time  jingling 
a  handful  of  gold  coins  in  his  pocket. 


"  I  pray  Jesus  to  forgive  thee  that  lie," 
said  the  monk,  "  for  I  hear  the  coins  jing- 
ling in  thy  pockets." 

"  If  thou  hast  seen  so  little  money  in 
thy  life,"  said  the  tradesman,  "how  dost 
thou  so  well  know  its  jingle  ?  " 

He  met  a  fish-monger  carrying  a  bas- 
ket of  fish,  coming  from  attending  his 
nets,  to  whom  he  said  :  "I  and  my  broth- 
ers are  perishing  for  want  of  fish.  Pray 
give  us  thy  basket  of  fish  and  go  thou 
and  catch  others." 

"Go  and  catch  thy  own  fish,"  sai,d  the 
fish-monger,  "the  waters  of  the  earth  are 
as  free  for  thee  to  fish  in  as  for  me." 

He  met  a  woman  at  her  door  to  whom 
he  bowed  low  and  made  the  sign  of  the 
cross : 

"  Kind  Madam,"  said  he,  "  I  and   my 


81 

brothers  are  perishing  for  want  of  food 
and  money ;  I  pray  you  give  unto  us  ac- 
cording as  the  Lord  hath  prospered  thee." 

"Come  in,  poor  Monk,"  said  she,  "  we 
have  not  much  except  my  husband's 
wages,  but  to  share  with  thee  is  to  give 
unto  the  Lord." 

So  saying  she  gave  him  half  her  sav- 
ings ;  and  when  he  made  ready  to  depart, 
she  craved  his  blessing. 

''  You  may  kiss  my  signet  ring  or  my 
great  toe,"  said  he.  Which  being  done, 
he  departed,  and  with  a  shrug  of  his 
shoulders,  said  to  himself : 

''  Ah,  if  women  were  not  so  easily  be- 
guiled, we  should  be  compelled  to  work 
or  starve  indeed." 

MORAL  : 

Scrutinize  closely  those  who  ask  charity. 


THE  CATS  AND  THE  SPARROWS, 


The  cats  and  the  sparrows  once  held  a 
conference  at  which  the  cats  proposed 
that  if  the  sparrows  would  consent  to 
roost  low,  they  would  protect  them  at 
night  from  their  enemies.  "  For  how 
can  we  climb  to  the  topmost  twigs  to 
protect  you,"  argued  the  cats. 

"You  have  only  recently  claimed  friend- 
ship for  us  yourselves,"  said  the  sparrows. 
"  Give  us  some  proof  of  your  good  faith." 

"  We  will  build  you  a  small,  strong 
house  with  a  door  only  large  enough  for 
you    to    enter,"    said  the  cats;  "and  we 


S3 

will  guard  it  from  your  enemies  all  the 
night." 

To  this  fair  proposal  the  sparrows  agreed, 
and  when  the  house  was  built,  they 
came  down  in  the  evening  and  occupied 
it  in  great  numbers.  The  cats  invited 
many  of  their  neighbors  to  help  protect 
the  door  of  the  sparrows  ;  and  they  faith- 
fully kept  their  trust  until  morning. 

When  day  dawned,  the  sparrows  went 
to  the  door  of  their  house  and  said  :  "We 
thank  you,  friends,  for  your  faithful  pro- 
tection during  the  night ;  will  you  now 
kindly  go  away  so  that  we  may  fly  about 
our  business  ?  " 

"  No,  thank  you,"  said  the  cats  :  "  we 
protected  you  from  your  enemies  during 
the  night  with  the  expectation  of  ourselves 


84 

having  sparrows  for  breakfast  this  morn- 
ing." 

MORAL : 

Do  not  trust  to  your  own  wit  against 
the  friendly  proposals  of  a  known  enemy. 


AND  THIS  IS  LOVE, 


A  young  man  married  a  beautiful 
young  girl  whom  he  loved  very  much. 

At  their  first  meal  he  carved  the  steak, 
and  out  of  his  affection  for  her  he  gave 
her  the  tender  part.  This  he  continued 
to  do  without  interruption,  giving  her  the 
tender  part  of  the  steak  at  every  meal  for 
three  years.  On  the  morning  of  the  third 
anniversary  of  their  wedding  he  begged 
her  to  carve  the  steak — pleading  as  he 
pretended — that  he  had  strained  his  wrist. 

To  this  she  readily  consented,  and  as 
usual  kept  the  tender  part  of  the  steak 
for  herself. 


86 

The  next  morning,  his  wrist  having 
suddenly  recovered,  he  carved  the  steak 
himself,  and  kept  the  tender  part  for  him- 
self. 

At  this  his  wife  burst  into  tears,  ex- 
claiming, •'  You  no  longer  love  me." 

"  Ah,  Madam,"  said  he,  "  I  have  done 
an  act  of  selfishness  only  once  which  you 
have  repeated  a  thousand  times." 

Moral  : 
She  applied  for  a  divorce  on  the  ground 
of  extreme  cruelty,  and  got  it. 


THE  DOG  AND  HIS  MUTTON, 


One  dark  night  a  dog  named  Tray 
left  his  fellows  in  their  kennels  and  went 
marauding  among  his  master's  sheep. 
He  killed  several  and  orlutted  himself  with 


mutton. 


Having  satiated  his  appetite  a  sense  of 
guilt  and  fear  of  detection  on  the  morrow 
took  possession  of  him.  He  began  to 
work  his  wits  to  conceal  his  guilt.  Hav- 
ing carefully  removed  the  dirt  of  travel 
from  his  paws  and  the  stain  from  his  jaws, 
he  stealthily  returned  to  the  kennel,  care- 
ful to  not  wake,  his  companions.  As  he 
had  always  carefully  guarded  his  reputa- 
tion  he  believed  he  would  not  be  su^- 


88 

pected  and  hoped  the  deed  would  be  laid 
on  some  of  the  less  stealthy  dogs  of  the 
kennel,  or  on  some  innocent  dog  of  the 
neighboring  farms. 

When  the  farmer  learned  in  the  early 
morning  that  his  valuable  sheep  had  been 
killed,  he  said  to  his  sons:  ''We  must  de- 
termine whether  the  sheep-dog  is  among 
our  own  dogs  before  suspecting  our  neigh- 
bors." 

So  he  bade  his  sons  when  they  called 
all  the  dogs  to  give  them  their  break- 
fast, to  observe  which  dog  had  no  appetite, 
for  he  expected  the  guilty  one  would  not 
manifest  his  usual  hunger. 

But  Tray  being  a  shrewd  villain,  had  ex- 
pected this  test  would  be  made  ;  and  when 
the  sons  whistled  the  several  dogs  to 
breakfast,  he  ran  as  fast  as  he  could  with 


59 

his  full  stomach  and  manifested  even  more 
hunger  than  usual.  Then  the  sons  said, 
*'  Surely  Tray  is  not  guilty,  for  we  have 
not  often  seen  him  eat  so  heartily  ;  "  and 
they  called  the  farmer  to  witness  the  fact 
of  the  evident  innocence  of  every  dog  in 
their  kennels. 

The  farmer  was  much  gratified  at  this, 
but  just  as  he  was  about  to  turn  back  into 
the  house,  Tray  began  to  show  signs  of 
sickness,  and  began  to  vomit  up  not  only 
his  breakfast,  but  also  the  mutton  he  had 
eaten  the  night  before. 

"Who   would  have   believed   it,"    said 
the  farmer  with  great  sorrow.     "  Take  the 
sheep-dog  away  and  kill  him." 
Moral  : 

Never  try  to  conceal  your  foibles  by 
violating  the  laws  of  nature. 


THE  HUNTER  AND  THE  RABBIT, 


The  following  fable  was  recited  to  me  by  a  beautiful 
Syrian  lady.  It  is  probably  the  original  of  La  Fontaine's 
"  Satyr  and  the  Hunter."  It  is  so  good,  any  one  might 
wish  to  be  the  author  of  it.  J.  B. 

One  cold  day  a  man  went  hunting  and 
he  caught  a  rabbit  which  was  so  beautiful 
that  he  desired  to  keep  her  and  take  her 
to  his  home. 

As  they  journeyed  along  the  man  blew 
his  breath  into  his  hands. 

"Why  do  you  do  that?"  asked  the 
rabbit. 

"  To  warm  my  hands,"  said  the  man. 

At  dinner  the  man  seated  the  rabbit  at 
the   table   with  his   children.      As  he  ate 


61 

his  soup,  which  was  very  hot,  she  noticed 
he  blew  his  breath  upon  it. 

**  Why  do  you  blow  your  breath  upon 
the  broth  ?  "  asked  the  rabbit. 

*'  To  cool  it,"  said  the  man. 

At  this  the  rabbit  leaped  through  the 
wkidow  and  fled  away  saying  : 

*'  I  am  afraid  to  abide  with  one  who  can 
blow  hot  and  cold  with  the  same  breath." 


THE  RAT  AND  THE  RABBITS, 


J^O^c 


One  day  a  low-born  but  aspiring  rat 
met  a  rabbit  in  the  way.  "  Hello,"  said 
the  rat ;  "I  have  often  heard  my  old  father 
speak  of  what  elegant  people  your  family 
are,  but  I  never  had  the  honor  of  meeting 
one  of  you  before."  As  he  said  this  the 
rat  made  a  low  bow,  and  the  rabbit  sat 
up  and  put  his  ears  forward  and  looked 
at  the  rat  through  his  eye-glasses. 

**  I  am  no  ordinary  rat,  sir,"  said  the 
rat,  "  and  I  have  often  thought  from  what 
I  had  heard,  that  I  resembled  your  kind, 
sir ;  and  now  that  I  have  seen  you,  sir,  I 
think  better  of  the  resemblance  than 
ever," 


63 

At  this  the  rat  sat  up  and  imitated  the 
rabbit  as  well  as  he  could,  making  him- 
self look  comical  indeed. 

The  rabbit  suppressed  a  smile,  and  as- 
sumed an  interested  air,  as  if  to  say  : 
'*  By  Jove,  I'll  have  some  fun."  So  walk- 
ing around  the  rat  and  observing  him 
critically,  he  said  :  ''  I  really  believe  you 
would  resemble  our  kind  somewhat  if  it 
were  not  for  that  outrageous  long,  slim, 
round  tail  you  drag  behind  you.  Would 
you  consent  to  have  that  cut  off,  sir  ?  " 

**  I  would,  sir,  for  the  sake  of  getting 
into  good  society,"  said  the  rat,  looking 
back  at  the  file-like  member,  and  glancing 
enviously  at  the  rabbit's  soft  white  one. 
*' But,"  continued  he,  "don't  you  think  I 
look  as  well  with  it  as  I  would  with  no  tail 
at  all,  sir?     Besides,  sir,  if  I  have  it  cut 


64 

off  it  will  forever  bar  me  from  associating 
again  with  my  own  kind,  sir." 

*•  Never  fear,"  said  the  rabbit,  "  we  can 
stick  on  a  bunch  of  cotton  in  its  place, 
which  will  look  quite  like  mine." 

** Agreed,"  said  the  rat. 

"All  right,"  said  the  rabbit,  "come  with 
me  to  Surgeon  Chip-Munk,  and  he  will 
do  the  job  for  you  in  a  jiffy." 

Surgeon  Chip-Munk  sawed  the  tail  off 
so  close  to  the  spinal  column,  that  it  made 
Mr.  Rat  have  a  weak  back  ever  after. 
Having  stuck  a  bunch  of  cotton  on  the 
wound,  which  was  soon  saturated  with 
blood,  he  limped  away  with  his  new-found 
friend  to  join  "good  society"  among  the 
rabbits. 

"  Hello,  Chappy,"  said  one  of  Mr.  Rab- 
bit's friends,  "what  have  you  got  there?" 


68 

''S-h-h,"  whispered  Mr.  Rabbit,  ''it's 
nothing  but  an  ordinary  rat  who  thought 
by  cutting  off  his  tail  and  sticking  on  a 
piece  of  cotton,  he  would  resemble  us 
rabbits.  He  wants  to  get  into  our  set. 
Mr.  Bunny,  (aloud)  allow  me  to  introduce 
my  friend,  Mr.  Cotton-tail."  And  so  Mr. 
Rat  took  up  his  residence  among  the 
rabbits. 

Mr.  Rabbit  and  Mr.  Bunny,  as  they 
went  along  with  Cotton-tail  limping  be- 
hind, had  a  whispered  agreement  between 
themselves  that  they  would  let  the  chap- 
pies of  their  tribe  know  the  true  character 
of  Cotton-tail,  but  they  would  intimate  to 
the  females  of  their  several  families  that 
he  was  a  titled  foreigner ;  and  when  they 
suggested  this  to  Cotton-tail,  he  readily 
assented,  declaring  that  of   a   truth   the 


66 

Uuest  sort  of  blood  ran  in  his  veins,  that 
his  ancestors  were  originally  from  Nor- 
way, and  that  one  of  his  very  great  grand- 
others  had  come  over  in  the  Day-Flower. 
(The  £cict  is,  as  was  well  known  among  the 
rats  of  Rat  HoUow,  that  this  grandfather 
of  his  had  to  take  refuge  on  the  ship  to 
escape  a  pack  of  terriers  which  the  people 
had  set  after  him  on  account  of  his  out- 
rageous stealing  and  other  depredations. 
Also  that  he  had  been  obliged  to  remain 
concealed  in  the  steerage  on  the  way 
over.) 

"The  blood  in  your  tail  was  ordinary 
red,"  said  Mr.  Rabbit  with  a  sly  wink  at 
Mr.  Bunny.  "  However,"  he  continued, 
"  doo't  let  that  wwry  you.  you'll  pass  for 
a  regular  blue-blooded  foreign  duke." 

With  this  he  slapped  Cotton-tail  on  his 


67 

sore  back,  which  made  the  poor  devil  hmp 
up  a  Httle  brighter,  and  he  really  began  to 
consider  what  sort  of  a  brogue  he  should 
adopt. 

They  introduced  him  to  the  females  as 
the  Due  de  Cotton-tail,  and  the  season 
of  intense  popularity  he  had  among  them 
almost  turned  his  head,  and  he  often 
wished  the  common  rats  in  Rat  Hollow 
could  see  him  basking  in  their  favors. 

Several  times  his  cotton-tail  actually 
dropped  off,  exposing  the  scabby  stump, 
but  the  females  were  too  polite  to  notice 
it.  Indeed,  I  half  suspect  some  of  the 
chappies  occasionally  jerked  poor  Cotton- 
tail's tail  off  for  a  joke,  as  they  always 
seemed  to  have  an  uproar  of  fun  covertly 
at  his  expense. 

They  often  strided  over  him  and  nearly 


68 

Stepped  on  him,  offering  the  apology  that 
they  didn't  see  him.  They  called  him  the 
Runt  of  the  Kid. 

One  day  he  went  with  the  rabbits  into 
the  field  to  graze  upon  the  fine  grass,  and 
you  may  believe  he  nearly  starved  trying 
to  subsist  on  grass  as  the  rabbits  did. 
He  became  thin  and  weak,  his  coat  was 
rough,  his  little  round  black  eyes  were 
scabby,  his  voice  was  squeaky,  and  his 
tail  was  plainly  tied  on  with  a  string. 
The  females,  too,  had  begun  to  know  his 
true  character,  and  none  of  them  would 
allow  him  near  them.  Indeed  many  a 
whisper  and  covert  glance  and  suppressed 
giggle  might  have  been  seen  as  the 
troup  of  pleasure  seekers  gayly  scam- 
pered toward  the  grazing  grounds. 

The  chappies  knew  the  party  was  liable 


69 

to  be  pursued  by  the  dogs,  and  they  had 
resolved  to  leave  poor  Cotton-tail  to  his 
fate.  When  the  dogs  came  with  yelp  and 
clatter,  the  rabbits  took  to  their  heels  and 
were  soon  away  over  the  hills  to  a  place 
of  safety  ;  but  poor  Cotton-tail  came  limp- 
ing and  squealing  after,  and  it  was  owing 
to  his  smallness  that  the  dogs  ran  quite 
over  him,  though  several  snapped  at  him 
with  horrid  teeth.  Amid  a  cloud  of  dust 
and  a  deal  of  fright  and  excitement  he 
managed  to  crawl  under  the  hollow  root 
of  an  old  stump,  where,  almost  within 
reach  of  the  dogs'  claws  and  noses,  he 
trembled  and  crouched  in  terror  for  hours 
until  the  dogs  were  finally  called  home  by 
their  master.  He  did  not  dare  come  out 
till  next  day,  when  he  heard  the  rabbits 
come  trooping  back  to  graze  again. 


70 

To  their  astonishment  he  presented 
himself  among  them  alive,  but  the  sorriest 
looking  mortal  it  had  ever  been  any  one's 
fortune  to  see. 

Out  of  pity  the  females  urged  the  chap- 
pies to  tell  him  he  was  well  known  to  be 
only  an  ordinary  low-born  rat ;  that  he 
would  never  be  accepted  in  society,  and 
that  he  would  likely  be  killed.  They  rec- 
ommended him  to  return  to  his  kin  in  Rat 
Hollow. 

To  this  he  consented  and  to  their  credit 
they  carried  him  on  a  litter  (for  rabbits 
are  kind-hearted  if  weak-minded  animals) 
to  where  upon  the  ill-fated  day  he  first 
met  Mr.  Rabbit. 

From  this  spot  he  made  his  way  with 
great  difficulty  to  Rat  Hollow  and  pre- 
sented himself  to  his  kin.     His  father  and 


71 

mother  had  died  during  his  absence. 
Rumors  of  his  contemptible  toadyism  had 
spread  throughout  the  neighborhood,  and 
no  one  would  consent  to  receive  him,  es- 
pecially with  that  ridiculous  stump  of  a 
tail  which  put  him  to  utter  shame  wher- 
ever he  went  ;  for  it  was  soon  rumored 
why  he  had  submitted  it  to  be  cut  off. 
The  plain  females  would  have  nothing  to 
do  with  him,  and  though  he  had  lost  his 
tail  he  had  preserved  his  impudence  and 
tried  to  intrude  himself  into  respectable 
rat  society  as  of  old. 

He  met  rebuffs  everywhere.  At  last 
he  was  forced  to  the  solitary  lot  of  an  out- 
cast where  he  had  time  to  meditate  upon 
the 


72 

Moral  : 
It  is    better    to    be   a  long  -  tailed   rat 
among  rats  than  a  cotton-tailed  rat  among 
rabbits. 


THE  JUST  GOVERNOR, 


A  man  who  was  a  notorious  thief  in 
his  native  place,  removed  to  a  distance 
and  by  dint  of  exemplary  conduct  became 
Mayor  of  a  city. 

Some  meddling  persons  discovered  his 
identity  and  laid  the  fact  of  his  former 
reputation  before  the  governor  of  the 
province,  expecting  thereby  to  effect  his 
removal  and  advantage  themselves. 

The  Governor  heard  them  patiently 
and  then  said: 

"  Begone ;  you  are  as  evil  now  as  he  was 
then.  You  should  not  so  much  blame 
him  for  what  he  w^as  then,  but  rather 
praise  him  for  what  he  is  now." 


THE  MAN  AND  THE  FLY, 

**  Why  in  thunder  don't  you  keep  out 
of  my  coffee,"  said  a  man  to  a  fly. 

''  Because  I'm  a  fly,"  said  the  fly;  "I  re- 
gret it  as  much  as  you  do,  but  can't  help 
it.     Your  coffee  was  sweetened." 

"I'm  glad  it  was  also  hot,"  said  the 
man  as  the  fly  ceased  kicking. 

Moral  : 
We  are  not  more  sorry  to  lose  a  poor 
relation  than  he  is  sorry  at  being  an  an- 
noyance. 


THE  LUXURIOUS  CATS, 

A  pair  of  cats,  male  and  female,  were 
introduced  into  a  stylish  house  on  the 
Avenue,  the  master  saying  his  premises, 
especially  the  barn  and  carriage  house, 
had  been  infested  with  rats. 

When  this  was  reported  to  the  rats 
there  was  general  consternation  among 
them,  until  one  rat  who  had  been  a  com- 
mercial traveler,  spoke  up  and  said  : 

**  Be  not  troubled,  my  friends,  I  knew 
these  cats  before  they  came  to  this  house. 
They  will  be  too  well-fed  and  they  are 
too  proud  and  lazy  to  catch  rats." 

"  But  there  is  a  pair  of  these  cats,  male 
and  female,"  said  an  old  rat,  "  and  I've 


76 

often  noticed  that  where  two  cats  are  Hv- 
ing  together  and  are  friendly,  a  litter  of 
kittens  soon  appear.  Alas,  I  fear  we  are 
undone." 

"  Be  not  troubled,  my  friends,"  said  the 
commercial-traveler  rat ;  '*  I  know  this  she- 
cat  :  she  is  not  the  kind  of  a  cat  that  has 
kittens." 

Moral  : 

Luxurious  women  who  refuse  to  bear 
children,  leave  the  pestuous  part  of  society 
to  multiply. 


THE  PULLET  AND  THE  CHICKS, 


>>»ic 


A  pullet,  who  peculiarly  enough,  de- 
termined she  would  neither  lay  eggs  nor 
hatch  them  out,  sought  to  gather  unto 
herself  a  brood  of  young  chicks  from  the 
eggs  and  hatchings  of  other  hens. 

She  declared  that  neither  the  hen  that 
layed  the  egg  nor  the  one  that  hatched  it 
out  was  the  true  mother  of  the  chick. 

She  claimed  that  the  hen  that  hovered 
the  chicks  and  cared  for  them  and  fed 
them  and  taught  them  to  behave  becom- 
ingly, was  the  true  mother  of  the  chicks. 

So  after  a  deal  of  persuasion  she  in- 
duced several  motherly  old  hens   to   let 


78 

her  have  several  of  their  chicks  to  prove 
her  theories.  But  when  she  began  to  go 
awayjvith  them  and  to  hunt  and  scratch 
for  them,  she  found  the  chicks  soon  ran 
back  to  their  respective  mothers. 

With  disappointment  and  humiHation 
she  went  to  a  proud  old  cock  who  had 
often  tried  to  persuade  her  to  become  his 
wife,  and  asked  him  why  the  chicks  aban- 
doned her. 

He  stepped  about  and  crowed  lustily 
two  or  three  times  before  answering  her, 
and  then  said  : 

"  You  cannot  be  a  mother  and  remain 
a  pullet.     You  did  not  cluck  right." 

Moral  : 
Kindergartners  and  schoolmams  cannot 
be  mothers  by  proxy. 


THE  GENIE  AND  THE  VALLEY, 


>><Kc 


There  was  once  a  beautiful  valley. 
There  was  waving  grain  in  the  fields,  and 
in  the  meadows  were  happy  harvesters, 
and  in  the  pastures  were  herds  of  kine 
grazing.  And  there  were  hedges  where 
wild  roses  grew,  and  old  fences  and  gates 
by  the  woodlands  ;  and  there  were  farm 
houses  and  barns  and  villages.  And  in 
every  house  in  all  that  valley  a  pair  of 
sweethearts  lived.  And  there  were  chil- 
dren going  to  school  swinging  their  bas- 
kets. And  there  were  lovers  walking 
near  the  shaded  nooks  and  by  the  still 
waters.     . 

Travelers   came   from  all  the  world   to 


80 

look  upon  this  beautiful  valley,  for  they 
said  :  "  Here  man  seems  to  be  a  part  of 
nature." 

In  the  mountains  which  surrounded  this 
beautiful  valley,  lived  a  Genie.  And  it 
was  his  habit  to  come  and  sit  upon  a  cliff 
in  the  evening  and  look  upon  that  valley. 

One  evening  as  he  sate'  there  was  a 
frown  upon  his  brow,  and  there  was  a 
fierce  look  in  his  eyes  and  a  curl  about  his 
nostrils.  And  after  a  w^ile,  the  frown 
and  the  curl  about  his  nostrils  changed  to 
a  smile — but  his  eyes  were  yet  searching 
and  lit  by  a  strange,  hard  light. 

Then  he  said  unto  himself:  "  I  will  build 
me  a  temple  in  this  valley.  I  will  mix  my 
mortar  with  blood,  and  sweat,  and  tears. 
The  solid  parts  shall  be  mixed  of  human 
flesh  and  bones,  and  the  draperies  shall  be 


81 

woven  of  human  hair,  some  of  youth, 
some  of  woman,  some  of  manhood,  and 
some  of  the  silvered  time  of  age. 

The  sounds  of  the  trowel  and  of  the 
hammer,  and  the  music  and  echo  of  its 
domes  shall  be  of  sighs  and  groans,  and 
the  weepings  of  partings  ;  and  the  silence 
of  its  arches  shall  be  the  silences  of  resig- 
nation and  of  despair." 


So  the  Genie  came  down  into  the  val- 
ley and  took  the  disguise  of  a  great  mer- 
chant, and  that  same  glint  was  in  his  eyes. 

And  he  caused  the  farmer  to  bring  his 
products  unto  him,  and  the  housewife  to 
bring  hers ;  and  the  mechanic  to  bring  his ; 
and  the  shepherd  to  bring  his  ;  and  the 
weavers  who  wrought  at  the  looms,  to 
bring  theirs ;  and  the  miner  to  bring  his ; 


82 

and  the  hunter  to  bring  his  ;  and  he  sent 
men  in  distant  ships  to  bring  the  fruits 
and  products  of  every  clime  unto  him  ;  he 
sent  men  down  to  sea,  and  down  under 
the  sea  to  bring  up  trophies.  And  every 
hand  of  skill  and  every  brain  of  cunning 
in  all  that  valley  he  turned  to  his  service. 
And  it  happened  that  the  farmer  did 
not  whistle  across  his  fields  as  of  old  ;  and 
the  housewife  did  not  hum  and  sing  about 
her  work ;  the  mechanic  did  not  meet  his 
wife  with  a  smile  nor  toss  his  children  ; 
the  shepherd  ceased  his  piping  ;  the  weav- 
ers bent  lower  and  their  thinner  fingers 
flew  faster ;  the  miner  dug  deeper  and 
some  never  came  out  of  the  mines;  and 
the  hunter  went  hungry  and  cold;  and 
those  who  went  in  ships  wept  at  parting 
but  never  came  back  ;  and  some  that  went 


83 

under  the  sea  never  came  up  ;  the  angel 
of  death  often  stayed  the  hand  of  the 
artist;  and  the  brains  of  cunning  grew 
weary  and  went  wild  with  raving. 

And  some  had  their  fingers  cut  off;  and 
of  some  he  took  a  hand  and  of  others 
both  arms  ;  and  some  gave  a  leg  and 
some  both  legs ;  and  some  gave  their 
teeth  ;  and  some  gave  one  eye  and  some 
both  eyes  ;  and  some  gave  their  hearing ; 
and  others  had  their  bodies  crushed  ;  some 
died  of  hunger  and  some  of  disease  ;  and 
some  did  crimes,  and  some  did  thefts  to 
bring  goods  unto  the  Genie.  And  of 
some  he  took  their  honor  ;  and  some  gave 
up  love  ;  and  some  could  not  marry  the 
ones  they  loved ;  and  babes  perished  be- 
cause their  mothers  forgot  them.  And 
many  gave  their  hair ;  and  women  gave 


84 

their  beauty  ;  some  gave  their  youth  ;  and 
some  tore  the  jewels  from  their  ears  and 
from  their  breasts  and  the  rings  from  their 
fingers  and  gave  him. 

And  some  wept,  and  some  cursed,  and 
some  prayed  when  they  had  nothing  left. 
And  some  who  had  lovers  and  were  more 
beautiful  than  all  the  rest,  gave  up  their 
bodies  to  him  ;  and  of  these  he  made  the 
caryatids  which  supported  the  arches  of 
his  temple ;  and  of  all  the  rest  of  the 
things  that  were  brought  him  he  builded 
his  temple;  and  when  it  was  finished  he 
laughed,  and   he  said  : 

*'  Behold,  I  shall  have  renown." 

And  the  people  looked  and  wondered, 

and   they    said:     *'How   great  and  good 

is    he  who    builded    the    temple;"     and 

they    went    in    and  admired    the    arches 


88 

and  domes  and  halls  and  colonnades,  but 
they  could  not  see  what  the  mortar  and 
the  solid  walls  and  the  draperies  were 
made  of. 


THE  WAITING  BUZZARDS, 


>>»Co 


A  group  of  buzzards  were  seated  upon 
the  branches  of  a  dead  tree  near  a  field, 
watching  the  progress  of  a  combat  be- 
tween a  bull  and  a  horse. 

*'  Why  are  you  gathered  together  so 
quietly/'  said  a  passing  eagle  to  the  buz- 
zards. 

"  We  expect  from  appearances,"    said 
the  buzzards,  "  to  soon  have  the  pleasure 
of  devouring  one  or  two  carcasses." 
Morals: 

1.  The  wise  benefit  by  the  conflict  of 
fools. 

2.  The  infidels  watching  the  conflict 
betweeen  Roman  Catholics  and  Protest- 
ants. 


The  Devil  the  God  and  the  Man. 


A  devil  once  pursued  a  man  around  the 
margin  of  a  small  lake.  The  devil  was 
afraid  of  water  and  could  not  cross  the 
lake,  so  that  the  man  easily  avoided  him 
by  keeping  on  the  opposite  side. 

The  man  was  becoming  very  tired  of 
being  chased,  when  to  his  joy  he  saw  a 
god  approach  the  devil.  "  Now,"  said  the 
man,  "being  enemies,  they  will  surely  en- 
gage each  other  while  I  can  make  my 
escape." 

But  to  his  surprise  he  heard  them  agree 
between  themselves  to  one  go  one  way 
and  the  other  the  other  way  around  the 
lake,  and  first  catch  the  man,  after  which 


88 

they  could  as  well  fight  out  their  ancient 
quarrel. 

Moral  : 
The  Romanists  and  Protestants  uniting 
to  pursue  the  liberty  of  conscience  to  its 
destruction. 


THE  DOGS  AND  THE  PEASANT, 


An  honest  peasant  carrying  a  basket  of 
meat  and  vegetables,  was  going  home 
across  a  field  when  two  packs  of  hungry 
dogs,  one  from  either  side  of  the  field,  set 
after  him  with  great  fierceness. 

The  man  in  his  fright  wisely  took  timely  "^ 
refuge  upon  a  haystack  in  the  middle  of 
the  field.  The  dogs  surrounded  the  stack, 
and  so  certain  were  they  of  getting  the 
man  that  the  two  packs  began  to  fight 
each  other,  each  pack  claiming  him  as  its 
rightful  prey. 

Seeing  this  the  man   hissed   them   on,- 
and  to  such  good  effect,  that  the  two  packs 
had  soon  worried  each  other  so  they  could 


90 

'm 

hardly  move  ;    and  the    man   came  down 
and  went  safely  home  about  his  business. 

Moral  : 
The    modern    infidels   pursued   by  the 
Romanists  and  the  Protestants. 


THE  CUNNING  THIEF. 

A  group  of  men  once  set  a  pack  of  dogs 
to  pursue  a  thief  who  took  to  his  heels 
through  a  forest. 

When  the  dogs  came  up  to  the  thief  he 
cunningly  hissed  them  on  in  the  direction 
they  were  going ;  they  mistaking  him  for 
one  of  their  masters.  When  their  masters 
came  up  and  the  dogs  returned  from  their 
fruitless  pursuit  it  was  found  the  thief  had 
swiftly  effected  his  escape  in  another  di- 
rection. 

Moral  : 
The  cunning  of  the  wicked  often  defeats 
the  good  intent  of  the  means  of  justice. 


EXPERIENCE  AGAINST  TEARS, 


A  man  who  had  remained  a  bachelor 
until  forty,  finally  married ;  and  one  day 
in  an  altercation  his  wife  sought  to  gain 
her  point  by  resorting  to  tears.  At  this 
he  took  his  hat  and  cane  and  walked  out 
of  the  house,  saying: 

*'  My  dear,  when  a  bachelor  I  learned 
to  beware  of  a  woman  with  a  tear  in  her 
eye." 


The  Sheep  and  the  Shepherd. 


An  old  ram  who  was  always  marauding 
through  distant  fields  and  woods,  com- 
plained to  the  shepherd  of  the  thorns 
plucking  and  robbing  him  of  his  wool. 

**  If  you  stay  at  home  in  the  open  pas- 
ture," said  the  shepherd,  '*  you  will  have 
no  cause  to  complain.  The  thorns  pluck 
the  wool  from  the  roaming  sheep." 


The  next  day  the  shepherd  in  passing 
through  the  wood  saw  the  birds  gathering 
the  wool  from  the  thorns  to  build  their 
nests. 

'*Ah,"  said  he,  *' the  roaming  sheep 
hath  his  uses ;  for  nature  compensates  the 
loss  of  one  by  the  gain  of  another." 


EVERY  TREE  LEANS, 

A  woodman  and  his  son  went  into  the 
forest  to  fell  trees.  Having  decided  to  cut 
down  a  certain  tree,  the  son  asked  his 
father  on  which  sides  he  should  cut  the 
notches. 

"  It  will  fall  easiest,"  said  the  man,  "  in 
the  direction  toward  which  it  leans.  Every 
tree  leans  a  little  ;  every  tree  has  its  way 
to  fall." 

Moral  : 
Every  character  has  its  weaker  side. 


THE  POISONED  RATS, 


A  man  whose  house  had  become  in- 
fested with  rats,  having  tried  in  vain  to 
trap  or  bane  them,  hit  upon  the  happy  ex- 
pedient of  pretending  to  eat  from  a  bowl 
of  porridge  himself,  while  at  the  same 
time  he  mixed  a  goodly  portion  of  poison 
in  it.  He  then  left  it  on  the  table  acces- 
sible to  the  rats. 

As  the  drove  came  out  into  the  kitchen 
to  forage  at  night,  one  wise  old  rat  warned 
the  rest  to  beware  of  the  bowl  of  porridge 
which  he  averred  was  left  too  easy  of 
access  to  be  above  suspicion  ;  but  when 
one  of  the  younger  rats  declared  he  had 


96 

seen  no  less  a  person  than  the  master  of 
the  house  himself  eating  from  that  very 
porridge  just  where  it  sat,  they  all  pitched 
in  and  ate  of  it  greedily. 

When  the  pains  began  to  strike  them, 
they  all  cried  in  dismay :  "Alas,  we  are 
undone.     He  has  tricked  us  at  last." 

As  they  w^ere  burning  with  thirst,  some 
proposed  rushing  out  and  plunging  into 
the  brook. 

"Stay,  my  friends,"  cried  the  old  rat. 
"  We  must  all  die  anyhow,  so  let  us  make 
him  pay  as  dearly  as  possible  for  our  lives ; 
we  will  remain  and  die  in  the  house;  every 
rat  to  his  hole." 

Moral  : 
A  very  human  trait  of  character.     The 
woman  who  brings  a  scandalous  breach  of 
promise  suit. 


THE  CONCEITED  DONKEY. 


A  donkey  once  imagined  himself  to  be 
one  of  great  wisdom  ;  and  with  all  sin- 
cerity deported  himself  with  such  a  coun- 
tenance and  manner  that  many  of  the 
other  animals  of  the  fields  and  forests 
were  undecided  among  themselves  as  to 
the  justice  of  his  claims  of  wisdom. 

When  he  found  that  he  had  excited  this 
interest  among  them,  he  one  day  sat 
himself  up  in  judgment  and  bade  the 
other  animals  come  about  him  to  be  in- 
structed. 

At  this  many  of  the  other  animals 
gathered  around  him  ;  some  in  mirth,  some 


98 

in  ridicule,  some  out  of  curiosity,  and  some 
suspecting  he  might  be  truly  wise. 

He  claimed  that  none  of  them  knew 
their  own  calling.  "For  examples,"  he 
said  :  **  the  squirrel  does  not  know  how  to 
run  up  a  tree;  the  bull  does  not  know 
how  to  twist  a  bush  ;  the  duck  does  not 
know  how  to  swim." 

In  attempting  to  instruct  the  squirrel  he 
tried  to  run  up  a  tree,  but  skinned  his 
nose  against  the  trunk  and  fell  back  on 
the  ground  and  broke  his  tail,  so  that  it 
stuck  up  and  out  to  one  side ;  in  showing 
the  bull  how  to  twist  a  bush,  he  set  his 
long  ears  for  horns  and  attacking  a  thorn- 
bush,  soon  made  them  bleed  and  scratched 
out  one  of  his  eyes  ;  in  showing  the  duck 
how  to  swim,  he  jumped  from  a  high  bank 
into  a  deep  pond  and  was  soon  drowned. 


OF  TH 

**  The  world  is  well  rid  of  the  conceited 
ass,"  said  the  animals. 


MORAL : 

Do  not  try  to  teach  other  people  their 
own  business. 


THE  BREACHY  COW. 


A  farmer  bought  an  old  cow  which  a 
neighbor  was  willing  to  sell  for  what 
seemed  a  cheap  price. 

Having  turned  her  into  the  pasture 
with  his  other  cattle,  he  found  to  his  sur- 
prise the  next  morning  that  she  had 
pushed  down  the  fence  and  let  the  entire 
herd  into  his  cornfield,  where  they  had 
wrought  great  damage. 

Seeing  this  he  removed  the  cow  from 
among  the  herd  and  confined  her  in  a 
high  enclosure  whence  it  was  impossible 
for  her  to  escape  :  but,  to  his  dismay,  the 
next  morning,  the  entire  herd  was  again 
in  the  cornfield. 


lOl 

"Alas,"  said  the  farmer;  "the  old 
cow  was  dear  at  any  price,  for  she  has 
taught  my  entire  herd  to  be  breachy." 

Moral  : 

Keep  evil  persons  from  among  the  inno- 
cent and  good. 

For  example:  If  you  have  a  sweet, 
virtuous,  innocent  wife,  do  not  let  her 
come  in  contact  with  the  experienced, 
secret- telling,  "  breachy  "  woman.  Those 
who  fall  are  generally  first  vitiated  in  their 

minds  and  imaginations  by  persons  of  their 
own  sex. 

The  woman  who  says  :  "  Oh,  I  know 
all  about  men,  and  I  have  no  confidence 
in  any  of  them,"  is  the  "  breachy  cow." 


THE  COWS  AND  THE  BULLS, 


The  cows  once  sent  a  committee  of 
their  number  to  the  farmer  to  petition  him 
to  adopt  the  same  rules  for  the  bulls  as 
for  themselves  ;  saying  that  the  one  huge 
bull  the  farmer  had  provided  to  associate 
with  them,  was  entirely  too  lordly  and  too 
privileged  a  character  to  suit  their  ideas 
of  equality  and  propriety. 

The  farmer  being  a  man  of  kind  heart 
but  weak  judgment,  consented  to  carry 
out  any  arrangement  they  might  suggest. 

Pleased  at  their  success,  they  suggest- 
ed that  the  male  calves  be  treated  so  they 
would  grow  exactly  like  the  females  in 
size  and  qualities ;  and  that  the  door  of 


103 

the  barn  should  be  made  only  large 
enough  to  pass  the  larger  sized  cows, 
which  would  of  course  be  large  enough 
for  the  "  equal-rights  "  bulls. 

(Note.     It  is  a  fact  in  nature  that  bulls  grow  to  be  twice 
as  large  as  cows.) 

When  the  fourth  spring-time  came  and 
the  door  was  opened,  and  the  cattle  all 
permitted  to  go  out  to  pasture  for  the 
season,  it  was  found  the  bulls  had  grown 
so  large,  that  it  was  impossible  for  them 
to  pass  the  door. 

The  cows  went  on  to  the  range  without 
them,  but  in  a  few  days  they  again  sent 
their  committee  to  the  farmer,  saying : 

*'  Nature  is  not  to  be  thwarted.  We 
pray  you  to  enlarge  the  door  of  the  barn. 
We  prefer  to  sacrifice  our  philosophy 
rather  than  forego  the  society  of  the  bulls." 


104 

A  few  of  the  cows  soon  smarted  under 
this  defeat,  saying  : 

**  If  we  can't  cause  the  bulls  to  be  like 
cows,  we  can  at  least  iijiitate  the  bulls, 
and  claim  for  ourselves  as  many  privi- 
leges as  they." 

So  at  evening  when  the  herd  came 
home,  these  cows  went  bellowing  and 
fighting  and  pawing  the  dust,  and  twist- 
ing bushes  that  stood  in  their  way.  They 
disowned  their  calves,  refused  to  be 
milked,  and  in  many  ways  deported  them- 
selves in  such  manner  that  the  milk-maids 
fled  in  terror,  declaring  to  the  farmer  that 
those  cows  had  gone  stark  mad. 

**  How  ridiculous  they  have  made 
themselves,"  said  the  farmer,  *'by  their 
foolish  notions  in  regard  to  the  equality 


of  the  sexes.     We  will  drive  them  to-mor- 
row to  the  butcher." 

The  other  cows  and  the  bulls  felt  alike 
ashamed  of  and  sorry  for  them,  as  they 
were  driven  away.  , 

Moral: 
Women  who  clamor  for  equal  privileges 
for  the  sexes. 


FATE'S  TRUE  LOVE. 

A  TRUE    ROMANCE. 


I  was  walking  along  a  country  road  in 
romantic  Switzerland  meditatively  hum- 
ming: 

**0h,  love  is  a  flower, 
Blooming  now  for  me;  " 

When  suddenly  a  white  dove  fluttered 
down  upon  my  shoulder.  Recovering 
from  my  surprise  I  found  a  small  white 
envelope  on  the  ground  at  my  feet. 
Following  the  dove  with  my  eye  I  noticed 
it  swiftly  wing  to  the  welcoming  hand  of 
a  little  girl,  perhaps  fourteen  years  of  age, 
who  sat  upon  a  hill  beyond  the  hedge  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  away. 

I  lifted    my   hat    and  bowed,   and    she 


107 

tossed   her  white  kerchief  once  and  then 
resumed  caressing  the  dove. 

On  opening  the  envelope  I  found  a  deli- 
cate Swiss  flower  resembling  our  arbutus, 
and  read  in  very  good  French,  this  le- 
gend : 

♦*  I  know  thee  not, 
But  yet  I  love  thee." 

I  was  four  thousand  miles  from  home 
and  younger  then  by  many  a  year.  Only 
those  who  have  felt  the  callousing  prints 
of  time  can  realize  how  tender  and  ro- 
mantic the  heart  is  at  twenty.  Time 
but  makes  early  impressions  deeper. 
Time  treads  lightly  upon  the  hardened 
sand. 

At  the  station  whither  I  was  going,  I 
received  important  mail  and  dispatches, 
which  notified  me  of  the  necessity  of  my 
immediate  return  to  America,  and  to  my 
home  in  Cincinnati.  But,  before  leaving, 
I  inquired  of  the  Village  Master  the  name 


108 

of  the  little  girl  who  inhabited  the  pretty 
hillside  cottage  I  had  passed.  He  told  me 
she  was  the  daughter  of  a  French  officer, 
banished  during  the  troublous  reign  of 
the  last  Napoleon. 

He  stated  she  had  trained  a  dove  to 
deliver  a  message,  when  liberated,  to  the 
nearest  human  being  in  sight.  Then  I 
knew  I  was  by  fate  or  accident,  if  not  by 
the  girl's  intention,  the  rightful  recipient 
of  the  message. 

Her  name  was  Elza  De  Vere ;  address, 
Vevay,  Environne. 

I  believe  in  love  and  I  believe  in  fate, 
and  so  do  you,  fair  reader. 

****** 

Five  years  had  passed.  I  had  entered 
business  in  Cincinnati.  Among  my  em- 
ployes was  a  young  girl  who,  every  morn- 
ing, brought  with  her  to  my  factory  a 
white  dove,   which   she  kept   imprisoned 


109 

until  noon,  at  which  time  she  liberated  it 
to  carry  a  message  to  her  mother.  It  was 
a  beautiful  and  tender  thing  for  this  hum- 
ble girl  to  do.  This  was  realizing  the  old 
legend  of  doves  carrying  love  messages. 
All  the  poets  from  Anacreon  to  Moore 
had  sung  of  it.  The  prisoner  in  his  cell 
both  in  real  life  and  upon  the  mimic  stage 
had  used  the  messenger  dove  to  commu- 
nicate with  friends  or  lover. 

With  a  sigh  on  my  lips  and  a  sob  in 
my  heart,  I  thought  of  the  little  Swiss  girl ; 
for  I  was  still  sentimental  at  twenty-five. 
The  very  landscape,  the  fresh  June  mead- 
ows, the  hillside,  the  pretty  cottage ;  all 
came  vividly  before  me.  I  remembered 
she  must  be  nearly  twenty  now,  and  I  im- 
agined her  still  as  innocent  and  pure  as 
the  flower  she  sent  me  by  her  white  dove. 
Curiosity  and  something  in  my  heart,  I 
did   not  then  understand,  made  me  wish 


no 

and  ponder  and  wonder.  I  was  of  that 
age  when  we  feel  sure  that  somewhere  in 
the  world  our  ideal  lover  or  sweetheart 
lives  and  waits  for  our  coming. 

Sometimes  we  catch  a  glimpse  of  a 
noble  or  pretty  face  walking  from  us  and 
wonder,  fear  it  is  our  ideal  love  walking 
away  from  us.  We  are  almost  tempted 
to  disregard  formality  and  speak  without 
an  introduction.  We  all  believe  in  eyes 
which  look  love  to  eyes  which  speak 
again. 

Opening  my  desk,  I  took  from  its  place 
my  long-neglected  commonplace  book  of 
European  notes.  And  when  I  found  there 
the  little  girl's  address  and  the  very  en- 
velope and  the  faded  flower  the  dove  had 
thrown  at  my  feet ;  and  when  I  read 

♦♦  I  know  thee  not, 
But  yet  I  love  thee." 

I  believed,    feared,   hoped   that  my  ideal 


Ill 

love,  intended  for  me  by  fate  and  awaiting 

my  coming,  was   Elza  De  Vere,  Vevay, 

Environne,  Switzerland. 

****** 

I  seized  my  pen  and  wrote  to  her  a 
short  impassioned  letter;  I  say  impas- 
sioned, but  passion  burned  between  the 
lines  more  than  in  the  words.  It  was 
worded  diplomatically  so  that  a  Platonic 
construction  could  have  been  put  upon  it 
if  it  had  proved  Elza  had  forgotten  me. 

Reason  sometimes  whispered  to  me 
that  it  was  improbable  she  should  have 
remembered  a  stranger,  and  the,  to  her, 
perhaps  trivial  incident. 

But  a  spell  was  over  me  and  it  grew 
upon  me.  I  could  not  sleep  except  at 
irregular  intervals.  I  took  long  drives  or 
rambles  at  night  in  parks  or  on  drear  and 
lonely  highways.  Often  the  morning 
moon  glistened  on  niy  oar  upon  the  silent 


112 

rippling  river  before  the  steam  whistles 
had  awaked,  and  while  the  ghosts  of 
greed  and  traffic  still  hovered  over  the 
sullen  docks.  Something  whispered  to 
me ;  something  haunted  my  heart ;  and  I 
was  sure  it  was  the  waiting,  suffering  love 
of  Elza  De  Vere. 

I  counted  the  days  and  estimated  the 
very  hour  she  would  receive  my  letter. 
How  I  wished  she  would  cable  me  a  mes- 
sage. I  believed  she  would  ;  I  could  feel 
with  an  intensity  amounting  almost  to  a 
sensation  that  she  would  cable  me.  I  left 
orders  at  my  hotel  that  I  should  be  im- 
mediately notified  if  a  message  came,  day 
or  night.  Something  seemed  impending; 
something  somewhere  seemed  to  fill  me 
with  a  mysterious  dread;  I  met  a  priest 
upon  the  street  and  involuntarily  shrank 
from  him.     I  did  not  then  know  why. 

A  messenger  boy  came.     I  was  dressed 


113 

and  waiting.  I  signed  his  book  with  a 
trembling  hand.  It  was  a  cable  message, 
and  read  as  follows  : 

My  father  dead,  leaving  great  wealth.  Jesuits  will  con- 
ceal me  in  a  cloister  to  secure  it.  I  have  waited  so  long 
for  you.  I  love  you.  Will  try  to  escape  to-night  and  sail 
for  America.     On  earth  and  in  heaven  I  am  yours. 

Elza  De  Vere. 

j{;  Hi  5{c  *  5|i  *  * 

In  this  cablegram  my  intuitive  hopes  and 
fears  were  strangely  realized.  All  the 
slow  years  of  my  blindness  and  neglect 
rushed  upon  me  in  a  few  moments  and 
o'ervvhelmed  me. 

The  clock  upon  a  neighboring  church 
tower  struck  seven,  and  I  shuddered.  I 
calculated  the  difference  of  longitude  and 
the  difference  of  time  and  knew  that  the 
clock  of  the  accursed  tower  in  Switzerland 
v/as  at  that  moment  striking  midnight. 
Would  my  love,  could  she,  escape  ?  I 
knew  at    that  moment  she  was  either  a 


114 

writhing,  innocent  prisoner,  or  a  fleeing 
fugitive  hastening,  like  her  own  white 
dove,  to  the  home  and  protection  of  her 
lover. 

Did  I  dare  to  cable  a  message?  It 
could  not  reach  there  till  morning,  and 
would  it  not  fall  into  the  hands  of  her  vil- 
lainous captors  and  hasten  the  consumma- 
tion of  their  plot?  I  studied  the  words 
of  her  message  and  the  varied  possibili- 
ties they  suggested.  I  decided  to  cable 
the  Burgomaster  of  Vevay  as  follows : 

Help  Elza  De  Vere.     Notify  her  I  am  coming. 

I  could  not  get  a  train  to  New  York 
until  morning.  I  did  not  sleep  that  night. 
As  midnight  struck,  I  knew  the  unsym- 
pathizing  morning  sun  was  tipping  with 
light  the  hills  of  Switzerland.  Would  the 
twelve  hours  of  my  waiting  never  wear 
away. 

I  sat  down  and,  quietly  closing  my  eyes, 


118 

tried  to  put  my  thoughts  in  communica- 
tion with  Elza  De  Vere  by  that  method 
of  mysterious  mind-telegraph  the  psychol- 
ogists have  written  about.  Her  soul 
seemed  to  answer  to  mine  that  she  was 
in  durance  and  in  despair,  yet  hoping  for 
my  coming.     It  was  maddening. 

I  arose  and  swept  it  away  as  a  dis- 
order of  my  own  imagination.  In  tranquil 
reason  and  in  action  by  such  slow  means 
as  the  world  afforded  was  my  only  hope. 

Ten  days  at  least,  without  accident, 
would  be  required  for  me  to  reach  the 
little  Swiss  village.  How  I  hated  the 
breadth  of  the  Atlantic  ;  how  I  wished  for 
wings.  I  almost  wished  my  soul  were 
free  from  its  clay,  that  it  might  speed  like 
a  thought  to  the  rescue  of  my  love.  I 
would  have  fought,  but  I  could  only 
have  beaten  the  air.  I  would  have 
prayed,  but  I  am  an  infidel  to  the  god  of 


116 

the  priests.  Hope  kept  me  from  despair, 
and  when  the  slow  morning  came,  I  was 
first  at  the  station. 

******* 

Before  setting  sail  from  New  York,  I 
made  arrangements  for  the  reception  and 
comfort  of  Elza  De  Vere  should  she  be 
so  fortunate  as  to  escape  and  arrive  in 
America  before  my  return.  Once  on  the 
deep  I  had  time  for  reflection.  How  tar- 
dily the  slow  monarch  seemed  to  paw  its 
way  among  the  waves.  I  importuned  the 
captain  to  assure  me  of  the  earliest  prob- 
able hour  of  our  arrival  at  Liverpool. 
How  eagerly  I  watched  every  west-bound 
sail,  hoping  my  love  might  be  safely  on 
board.  I  had  left  orders  in  New  York 
to  cable  me  the  moment  she  arrived,  in 
which  event  I  would  return  immediately. 

From  Liverpool  I  sped  to  the  continent, 
thence  to  Switzerland.     I  sought  the  Bur- 


117 

gomaster,  who  handed  me  my  own  cable 
message  to  him.  It  had  arrived  the  morn- 
ing after  I  sent  it.  He  stated  he  had 
sought  the  cottage  of  Elza  De  Vere,  but 
found  it  locked  and  abandoned.  The  fur- 
niture remained  the  same  as  if  the  occu- 
pants had  only  gone  away  on  a  temporary 
absence.  The  next  evening  it  was  burned 
to  the  ground,  with  all  the  contents. 

I  hastened  to  the  spot  and  found  noth- 
ing but  cold,  damp  ashes.  I  searched  for 
the  slightest  clew,  but  in  vain.  I  found 
an  unlettered  peasant  who  remembered 
that  after  her  father's  death  Elza  had  been 
taken  away  at  night  by  some  strange  doc- 
tors, to  restore  her  health,  which,  they 
stated,  had  been  greatly  affected  by  her 
grief.  I  offered  a  reward  amounting  to  all 
my  fortune,  and  spent  a  year  in  Europe 
searching  for  a  possible  clew  to  her  where- 
abouts.    She  never  arrived  in  America. 


118 

I  returned  to  Cincinnati  and  quietly  re- 
sumed my  business.  For  several  years  I 
harbored  a  steadily  fading  hope  that  in 
some  way  my  love  would  sometime  be 
able  to  make  herself  known  to  me. 

Fifteen  years  have  passed.  I  am  forty 
and  still  a  bachelor.  Many  of  my  readers 
may  have  often  seen  me  upon  the  streets, 
sometimes  in  public  places,  rarely  in 
ladies'  society ;  a  quiet  business  man, 
aging  rapidly,  living  sometimes  at  one 
hotel  and  then  at  another.  I  have  often 
been  rallied  for  remaining  a  bachelor, 
to  which  I  generally  make  a  reply  of  some 
pleasantry.  But  I  have  never  before  re- 
lated this — a  true  story  of  an  incident  in 
my  life. 

The  reader  can  answer  my  life's  prob- 
lem as  well  as  I.  Was  I  or  was  I  not 
robbed  of  Fate's  true  love  by  the  duplic- 
ity of  avaricious  priests  ? 


SUPPLEMENTARY  PREFACE. 


As  the  printing  of  this  book  proceeds,  I  find  that 
(having  several  other  books  in  manuscript)  I've  got 
the  wrong  preface  to  the  wrong  book,  and  take  oc- 
casion here  to  set  myself  right. 

Nearly  every  thing  in  this  book  (including  the 
preface)  was  written  within  the  last  four  mouths, 
prior  to  its  pubHcation  ;  indeed  the  printer  has  taken 
much  of  it  wet,  (yes,  that's  a  good  expression)  wet 
from  my  pen. 

And  while  I'm  unexpectedly  out  again  before  the 
curtain  to  make  additional  prefatory  bows,  I  want  to 
beg  the  reader  to  not  judge  my  book  by  any  single 
part  of  it ;  be  easy  on  me  in  certain  spots.  Perhaps 
I,  myself,  am  as  good  an  illustration  of  some  of  the 
fables  and  other  points  as  the  reader  is. 

There  is  one  thing  that  gives  me  a  few  twinges  of 
conscience ;  and  that  is,  my  book  will  hurt  the  feel- 
ings of  some  well-intending  readers ;  but  I  couldn't 
hold  the  book  in  any  longer,  as  I  explained  on  pages 
three  and  four;  and  that  is  the  very  reason  I'm 
bowing  and  bobbing  around  so  much  in  this  preface. 
The  more  I  think  on  it,  the  more  my  conscience 
twinges  like  a  fiddle  string  ;  and  worse  and  worse, 
the  book  is  likely  to  live — yes,  actually  live — and  be 
read  after  I'm  dead  and  gone — and  generations  yet 
unborn  may  have  their  feelings  hurt.  What  right 
have  I  to  so  afflict  them  ?  Alas  !  I  have  but  one 
excuse  :  I  couldn't  help  it ;  they  will  simply  be  un- 
fortunate in  not  having  lived  and  died  before  I  did. 


120 


I  wish  I  knew  at  this  writing  whether  there  are 
any  more  fables  and  such  things  in  me  or  not ;  for  I 
expect  this  is  the  last  chance  I'll  have  to  apologize ; 
and  if  I  only  knew,  I  could  decide  how  to  act.  But 
I  begin  to  suspect  I  have,  unlike  other  authors, 
made  the  mistake  of  writing  my  preface  before  in- 
stead of  after  writing  my  book.  This  circumstance 
proves  my  innocence,  and  shows  their  books  to  be 
little  short  of  premeditated  villainy. 

Have  you  noticed  how  seriously  most  authors  take 
themselves  and  their  books  ?  They  accuse  the  pub- 
lic of  being  afflicted  with  a  long-felt  want  which 
their  books  are  intended  to  fill ;  but  in  nearly  all 
cases  the  long-felt  want  is  painfully  close  to  the  an- 
atomy of  the  author  himself. 

Another  peculiarity,  common  to  authors,  preach- 
ers and  legislators,  is  their  claim  that  they  believe 
they  are  trying  to  do  good  to  the  public ;  whereas 
everybody  else  knows  that  if  these  same  self-consti- 
tuted good-doers  would  shut  up  shop  for  at  least 
twenty  years,  and  give  the  real  newspapers,  the  the- 
aters and  the  Fine  Arts  a  chance,  it  would  be  the 
greatest  public  blessing  since  the  discovery  of  Amer- 
ica. What  loads  of  expense  it  would  lift  from  the 
people — especially  from  the  poor,  upon  whom  such 
burdens  eventually  fall. 

But  do  not  imagine  I'm  not  taking  my  own  book 
seriously ;   for  if  I  do  not,  who  w^ill  ? 

The  Author. 

(See  "  The  Author  and  the  Reader,"  page  221.) 


BOY  TALK, 

ADDRESS    TO    THE    BOYS    OF    THE    WAIf's    MIS- 
SION,   CHICAGO. 

I  want  to  talk  to  the  hearty,  rough- 
and-tumble  boys,  who  don't  wear  knee 
breeches  nor  Little  Lord  Fauntleroy  col- 
lars and  cuffs.  The  shorter  the  boy's 
hair  is  the  better  I  like  the  boy  too. 

Every  boy  has  had  a  mother,  and 
nearly  every  boy  has  had  a  father,  some 
time  in  his  life  ;  and  don't  you  forget  it. 
Every  Mission  boy  had  a  mother ;  and 
don't  you  forget  her,  boys.  You  may 
not  have  known  her ;  but  somebody  knew 
her.  She  may  have  been  a  young  and 
beautiful  girl. 

She  was  pure  and  innocent  too ;  as 
pure  as  the  roses  you  sometimes  see  grow- 


122 

ing  In  the  gardens  of  the  rich.  Nearly 
every  boy's  mother  loved  him  when  he 
was  a  helpless,  dimpled  babe.  Every  baby 
is  beautiful  and  sweet  In  the  eyes  of  Its 
own  mother.  I  don't  care  how  roueh  and 
tough  some  of  you  boys  are  now ;  you 
were  once  a  little  dimpled  baby,  In  a  lov- 
ing mother's  arms.  She  loved  you  too ; 
and  don't  you  forget  it.  Once  I  saw  a 
waif  standing  observing  a  beautiful  young 
woman  as  she  passed.  As  he  turned 
away  he  murmured  to  himself,  ''  I  won- 
der if  my  mother  was  like  her." 

The  life  of  .every  one  of  you  is  con- 
nected with  a  romance;  and  could  it  be 
told,  would  be  a  more  thrilling  novel  than 
the  story-tellers  tell.  Connected  with  you 
boys  are  tales  of  love,  of  hope,  of  strug- 
gle, of  wrong,  of  suffering,  of  shame,  of 
heartbreak  and  despair.  There  are  stories 
of  trust,  of  oppression,  of  starvation  and 


123 

temptation  beyond  endurance.  There  are 
paths  touched  by  your  young  lives  where 
pride  and  shame,  comedy  and  tragedy, 
life  and  death,  walk  hand  in  hand. 

A  few  days  ago,  in  that  bad  city  by 
the  sea,  a  young  mother  carried  a  beau- 
tiful boy  baby  in  her  arms  on  the  street. 
She  was  almost  starved,  and  daily  being 
dragged  into  shame.  Her  babe  kept  her 
from  securing  honorable  employment ;  and 
rather  than  see  It  and  herself  perish  of 
want,  she  thought  to  abandon  it  in  a  hall- 
way, to  be  found  by  s-me  more  fortunate 
person.  She  put  her  boy  down  upon  the 
floor  ;  and  as  she  went  out  she  turned  to 
take  a  last  look,  and  saw  him  primp  his 
pretty  lips  and  cry.  Haunted  by  that  look 
and  cry  she  could  not  go  two  rods  upon 
the  street,  but  hastened  back  to  pacify  him 
by  kisses  and  caresses,  amid  her  own  tears. 
Again  she  left  him  ;  when  she  looked  back 


124 

he  smiled.  She  could  not  go  ;  and  again 
rushed  to  clasp  him  in  her  arms.  Now 
she  opened  her  breast  and  nursed  him  to 
sleep.  Carefully  she  laid  him  on  the  floor, 
and  went  on  tip-toe  out  into  the  street. 
But  she  remembered  the  sweet,  placid 
face  of  her  sleeping  babe,  and  her  breasts 
were  still  moist  from  his  lips.  Again  she 
rushed  back,  fearing  some  one  had  found 
him ;  and  clasping  him  in  her  arms,  ex- 
claimed, "  I  cannot ;  I  cannot  ;  now  I  will 
never  leave  him  !  " 

With  her  babe  in  her  arms  she  was  re- 
turning to  the  street  to  resume  fighting 
a  harder  battle  than  ever  a  soldier  faced. 

But  another  woman  happened  to  come 
down  the  stairs  and  witness  this  last  act 
of  the  tragedy.  She  called  a  policeman, 
and  had  the  mother  arrested  for  attempt- 
ing to  abandon  her  babe.  The  mother 
and  babe  were  imprisoned  for  the  crime. 


125 

No,  boys ;  she  was  imprisoned  for  win- 
ning a  victory  in  the  hardest  battle  in 
which  the  human  heart  was  ever  en- 
o^aofed. 

Now,  boys,  I  want  to  tell  you  a  fable 
of 

THE    YOUNG    ROBINS. 

The  Father-robin  had  been  shot  by  the 
sportsman ;  so  the  Mother-robin  had  to 
leave  the  nest  with  five  helpless  young 
ones  in  it,  and  go  abroad  among  the  fields 
and  furrows  to  hunt  food  for  them. 

At  last,  after  a  long  search  of  turning 
over  chips  and  stones,  and  looking  under 
clods,  here,  there,  and  everywhere,  she 
was  compelled  to  return,  almost  famishing 
herself,  with  but  a  single  morsel  of  food 
for  her  young. 

As  her  light  wing  and  foot  were  felt 
upon  the  rim  of  the  nest,  five  slender 
necks,  with    open    mouths,    were   eagerly 


126 

Stretched  up  to  receive  the  expected  nour- 
ishment. 

"  Alas,  my  dadlngs  !  "  said  she  ;  **  in  the 
fields  and  furrows  of  the  farmer  no  worms 
or  grains  are  to  be  found.  I  am  almost 
starving  myself.  My  wings  are  so  weak 
they  can  hardly  carry  me.  I  have  secured 
for  you  only  a  single  morsel  of  food.  If 
I  give  it  to  one  of  you,  I  fear  the  others 
will  perish  before  I  can  find  more." 

Higher  than  ever  and  more  eagerly 
the  five  helpless  necks  and  mouths  were 
stretched,  and  each  one  cried  : 

"  O  mother,  give  it  to  me." 

"  My  darlings,"  she  said,  '*  I  cannot 
choose  among  you.  I  am  glad  your  eyes 
are  not  yet  open.  You  cannot  see  my 
wretchedness.  As  your  eyes  are  blind, 
so  shall  mine  be." 

So  saying,  she  closed  her  eyes,  and  fed 
some  one  of  the  open   mouths,  and  flew 


127 

away.  When  she  returned  only  one  open 
mouth  was  held  up  to  her.  And  then 
she  knew  which  one  she  had  fed  ! 

Boys,  each  of  you  may  have  been  the 
young  robin  that  got  your  mother's  last 
morsel  of  food. 

There  are  only  a  few  things  in  this 
world  worth  much. 

The  greatest  of  all  these  is  to  have  a 
mother.  Don't  forget  yours,  boys ;  and 
remember  she  was  a  far  better  woman 
than  the  men  or  women, who  robbed  her. 

The  next  best  thing  is  to  love  and  be 
loved  by  a  woman.  With  this,  a  home 
is  possible  ;  without  it,  a  home  is  not 
possible.  Some  people  imagine  a  house 
with  persons  living  in  it  is  a  home.  In 
every  true  home  a  pair  of  sweethearts 
live. 

I  know  an  old  bachelor  who  has  an 
income  of  fifteen  thousand  dollars  a  year 


128 

without  much  labor ;  but  he  has  no 
home.  He  is  more  homeless  than  you 
Mission  boys  are.  He  owns  houses,  and 
can  travel  anywhere  in  the  world  he 
wishes  ;  but  the  more  he  goes,  the  more 
homeless  he  is.  Money  can't  make  a 
home. 

I  know  an  old  Chinaman  who  has  a 
nice  Chinese  wife  and  six  babies.  She 
does  the  washing,  and  he  does  the  iron- 
ing, for  their  small  laundry.  But  they 
are  happy ;  and  you  ought  to  see  how 
bright  the  black  eyes  of  those  six  chil- 
dren are  !  They  have  a  home.  They  live 
in  Washington  ;  and,  when  I  saw  them, 
I  said  :  ''  They  are  happier  than  the  pres- 
ident." 

Many  persons  who  live  in  fine  houses 
on  the  avenues  have  no  homes  ;  they 
are  only  boarding  with  their  servants. 

Now,  boys,  I  don't  want  you   to  make 


129 

any  promises  to  me  or  to  anybody  else  ; 
but  I  wish  each  one  of  you  would  form 
a  resolution  in  your  own  mind  to  have 
a  home  of  your  own  just  as  soon  as 
possible.  You  can  have  a  home  soon 
too  ;  all  your  very  own.  Don't  try  to  be 
governor  or  president.  They  often  have 
the  gout  or  dyspepsia  ;  their  heads  don't 
lie  easy  on  their  pillow  at  night,  either. 
Don't  say  much  about  it ;  but  you  just 
resolve  in  your  own  mind  to  be  an  hon- 
est, gentle,  home-making  man.  That's 
the  best  and  greatest  thing  to  be. 

I  know  a  very  wealthy  woman  in  Chi- 
cago who  gives  many  grand  "  recep- 
tions ; "  she  is  getting  old  now,  and  I 
have  found  out  that  in  her  heart  she 
would  give  all  her  diamonds  and  silks 
and  wealth  for  one  gentle  word  from  her 
husband,  or  for  one  cooing  smile  of  a 
baby  of  her  own. 


ISO 

I  take  It  that  each  boy  who  reads  this 
has  already  resolved  to  not  always  be  a 
waif,  but  to  have  a  home  of  his  own  ; 
and  I  want  to  tell  you  a  couple  of  things 
about  how  to  have  this  home.  You 
must  always  say  ''our"  in  speaking 
about  your  home,  with  one  exception. 
You  can  say  ''  my  wife ; "  but  about 
everything  else  you  must  say  our.  Say, 
our  house,  our  home,  our  children,  our 
money,  our  horses.  I  never  saw  a  happy 
home  where  the  man  kept  saying  "my" 
about  everything. 

I  also  take  It  that  every  boy  who  has 
resolved  to  have  a  home  of  his  own 
knows  he  will  have  a  wife ;  and  before  I 
stop  talking,  I  want  to  tell  you  one  or 
two  things  about  how  to  treat  a  wife ; 
and  remember,  no  woman  Is  any  good 
to  you  except  she  is  your  wife. 

Have    you     ever    noticed    a    woman's 


181 

hands  and  eyes,  and  her  hair  and  skin  ; 
how  delicate  and  tender  they  are  ?  She 
is  of  finer  mould  and  texture  than  you  or 
men  are;  and  just  so  she  is  more  gentle, 
delicate,  and  tender  in  her  heart  and  feel- 
ings than  you  are.  Boys,  I  charge  you 
to  be  gentle  with  your  wife.  You  may 
have  it  rough-and-tumble  out  in  the 
world,  but  when  you  go  into  your  home, 
be  gentle  ;  otherwise  you  will  drive  love 
out,  and  then  your  happy  home  will  be 
broken. 

Now,  I  wonder  if  anybody  has  before 
talked  to  you  about  the  same  things  I 
have.  It  seems  to  me  the  greatest  defect 
of  present-day  education  that  boys  and 
girls  are  not  taught  how  to  be  husbands 
and  wives,  fathers  and  mothers,  and  ma- 
kers of  true,  happy  homes. 


The  Puppy  and  Experience. 


A  half-grown  puppy  went  Into  the 
fields  and  woodlands  to  walk  alone  for 
the  first  time.  As  he  passed  along  the 
edge  of  a  cliff,  the  sun  being  low,  his 
body,  legs,  and  tail  cast  a  very  large 
shadow  upon  the  valley. 

*'  Heigh-ho !  "  he  exclaimed,  observing 
his  shadow ;  ''  how  I  have  grown !  I  am 
larger  than  the  largest  elephant  I  ever 
heard  of.  But  it  is  undignified  for  me 
to  be  trotting  and  bobbing  along  like 
this.     Large  bodies  move  slowly. 

With  this,  he  began  to  step  high  and 
slowly,  at  the  same  time  watching  the 
dignified  movements  of  his  shadow. 

Presently  he  noticed  a  bull  grazing  in 
the  meadow  below  ;  and  he  said  to  himself: 


133 

*'  I'll  just  go  down  and  astonish  that 
bull  by  stepping  upon  him,  and  crushing 
him  to  the  ground." 

So,  after  a  parting,  admiring  glance  at 
his  shadow,  he  fixed  his  eyes  steadily 
upon  the  bull,  and  with  profound  dig- 
nity of  step  and  manner,  as  he  supposed, 
descended  to  the  valley,  and  approached 
the  bull. 

The  bull  did  not  notice  the  approach 
of  the  puppy  until  it  was  quite  near, 
when  he  suddenly  turned  and  tossed  it 
high  in  the  air  over  his  back. 

The  puppy  fell  near  a  brook,  wherein  he 
saw  his  image  at  Its  true  size.  After  he 
found  out  where  he  was,  and  recalled  the 
direction  home,  he  limped  away,  saying  : 

**  It  is  in  the  mirror  of  experience, 
after  all,  that  we  can  justly  estimate 
ourselves." 


A  Man  and  His  Trowsers. 


A  poor  man  once  had  two  pairs  of 
trowsers ;  but  each  pair  was  full  of  holes. 
Happily,  it  happened  that  the  holes  in 
one  pair  were  not  in  the  same  places  the 
holes  in  the  other  pair  were ;  so  that  by 
wearing  both  pairs  at  once,  he  declared 
himself  as  well  protected  from  the  cold 
as  anybody. 

Morals  : 

1.  The  makeshifts  of  the  poor  often 
counterbalance  the  providence  of  the 
rich. 

2.  Two  hurts  in  one  place  wound  u^ 
deeply  indeed. 


The  Women  Who  saw  a  God. 


Not  often  in  modern  times  have  the 
supernatural  beings  of  the  universe  in- 
terposed in  behalf  of  humans  ;  but  there 
is  one  well-authenticated  instance  which, 
owing  to  the  humor  of  the  persons  con- 
cerned, has  never  been  mentioned.  It  was 
during  the  twenty-third  Administration 
of  the  Republic.  It  was  at  the  Capital, 
in  the  parlors  of  the  principal  hotel. 

The  wives  of  senators  had  gathered 
there  in  order  to  *'  receive,"  as  it  was 
called  in  those  days.  A  god  was  pres- 
ent in  the  form  of  a  magnificent  paint- 
ing which  hung  upon  the  wall.  Many 
admired  the  painting,  but  no  one  knew  it 
was  a  god. 


136 

The  miracle  occurred  when  there  were 
none  present  except  the  senators'  wives 
and  one  other.  All  were  arrayed  in 
their  costliest  raiment,  and  they  were 
chatting,  and  assuming  the  superiority 
they  felt  fate  had  conferred  upon  them. 
Presently,  some  seemed  to  hear  distant, 
delicious  music;  but  at  first  some  could 
not  hear  it.  And  those  who  heard 
looked  one  toward  another,  and  in  dif- 
ferent directions,  and  at  the  ceiling, 
and  listened ;  and  as  the  music  grew 
louder,  all  began  to  hear  it.  And  some 
declared  in  awed  whispers  that  they  saw 
the  picture  raise  its  eyes  and  look  on 
them,  and  that  there  was  a  circle  of 
light  about  its  head.  And  even  yet 
none  knew  it  w^as  a  god  ;  but  all  thought 
it  some  peculiar  favor  of  art,  due  to 
their  own  high  station. 

At  this  moment  the  door  opened,  and 


137 

the  colored  wife  of  a  colored  senator 
and  her  sister  entered,  to  pay  their  re- 
spects to  the  assembled  women  ;  but  the 
women  stood  astonished,  and  with  disdain, 
that  one  of  another  race,  though  of  equal 
rank,  should  essay  to  approach  their  pres- 
ence. All  stood  in  haughty  reserve  ;  and 
the  colored  women  waited  embarrassed 
near  the  door.  Some  of  the  women 
turned  their  backs,  and  some  sent  scorn- 
ful glances  toward  the  embarrassed  colored 
women  who  stood  waiting  for  recoo-nition 
near  the  door. 

Then  all  heard  the  music  again,  and 
saw  the  halo  about  the  head  of  the  pic- 
ture. And  when  the  women  looked  one 
toward  the  other,  they  saw  that  the  face 
and  neck  and  arms  and  hands  of  each 
were  turning  black  ;  and  each  one  looked 
at  her  own  hands  and  arms,  and  at  her 
image    in    the    large    mirrors,    and    saw 


138 

that  she  was  black.  And  they  all  turned 
and  looked  toward  the  waltinof  women 
near  the  door,  and  saw  that  they  were 
white.  And  the  waiting  women  looked  in 
astonishment,  and  saw  that  the  assembled 
senators'  wives  were  black ;  and  the  two 
waiting  women  looked  at  each  other,  and 
each  saw  that  the  other  was  white.  And 
they  blushed,  and  were  still  more  embar- 
rassed. And  then  they  heard  the  music 
too,  and  saw  the  halo  about  the  head  of 
the  picture ;  and  they  were  so  embar- 
rassed that  they  withdrew  out  through 
the  door  whence  they  had  come. 

And  the  senators'  wives  looked  at  each 
other,  and  saw  themselves  turning  white 
again.  And  when  they  listened  for  the 
music  again,  they  heard  it  not;  and  when 
they  looked  for  the  picture,  it  had  van- 
ished from  the  wall. 

And    as    they    went    home,   each    one 


139 

heard  something  whispering  in  her  ears 
which  no  one  else  could  hear,  and  which 
she  vainly  tried  to  silence  by  putting 
her  fingers  in  her  ears,  and  by  talking 
very  loud  to  her  companions. 

And  no  one  has   spoken  of  this   mira- 
cle unto  this  day. 


The  Fox  and  the  Wood-Duck. 


A  sly  old  fox  was  one  day  taking  a  walk 
when  he  espied  a  wood-duck  building  her 
nest  upon  the  ground  amid  some  brambles. 

''Heigh-ho!"  said  he  to  himself;  "if 
I  am  wise  I'll  wait  until  there  are  young 
ones  in  that  nest,  and  then  I'll  make  a 
meal  of  both  the  mother  and  her  brood." 

He  peered  through  the  brambles  very 
stealthily,  lest  he  should  alarm  the  wood- 
duck,  and  set  her  to  flight,  well  know- 
ing that  after  she  had  finished  her  nest 
she  would  not  be  so  easy  to  leave  it. 

He  was  just  sneaking  away  without 
even  shaking  a  twig,  when  he  noticed 
a  bright-hued,  quick-witted  pheasant  ap- 
proach and  accost  the  wood-duck. 


141 

The  fox  crouched  flat,  and  Hstened  with 
all  his  ears;  for  he  knew  that  pheasants 
are  as  wise  and  witty  as  they  are  beau- 
tiful. 

He  overheard  the  pheasant  advise  the 
wood-cluck  that  it  was  dangerous  to  buikl 
her  nest  upon  the  ground  for  fear  of  be- 
coming the  prey  of  foxes  and  other  var- 
mints that  are  always  prowhng  around. 
''  Besides,"  continued  the  pheasant,  "  all 
the  wood-ducks  of  my  accjuaintance  are 
building  their  nests  high  up  in  the  trees 
this  season  ;  it  is  the  new  fashion  of  the 
best  grade  of  duck  society." 

The  pheasant  flew  away,  leaving  the 
wood-duck  about  decided  to  abandon 
the  ground  and  build  her  nest  in  the 
trees. 

''The  jig  is  up  with  my.  scheme,"  said 
the  fox  to  himself,  as  he  crept  away 
unseen    and    unheard ;     ''  the  jig    is    up, 


142 

unless  I  can  persuade  her  to  remain 
upon  the  ground.  Now  for  a  test  of  my 
cunning." 

He  now  made  his  way  far  around,  to 
approach  the  duck  from  another  direc- 
tion ;  and  in  order  to  not  alarm  her, 
he  resolved  to  pretend  to  be  sorely 
wounded.  He  put  a  bandage  over  one 
eye,  and  tied  one  foot  up,  so  as  to  limp 
along  on  three  legs. 

"  Good-day,  Mrs.  Wood-Duck,"  said 
he,  with  a  half-smile  at  her,  and  a  half- 
grimace  of  pain  at  his  own  condition. 

"  Good-day,  sir,"  said  the  wood-duck, 
but  slightly  alarmed. 

"  I  see  you  are  building  a  very  nice 
nest  there  in  that  delightful  place,"  said 
he. 

"  This  is  my  first  season,  and  I'm  not 
much  used  to  building  nests,  sir,"  said 
she,  pleased  at  his  remark. 


143 

''  Your  first  season,  indeed?     You  build 
it    just    as    your    good    old    mother    did 
hers.       I     knew     her     very    well,     good 
^  madam,"  said  he. 

"  I  do  the  best  I  can,  sir,"  said  she  ; 
**  and  I  was  quite  satisfied  with  it  until 
Miss  Pheasant,  who  flew  away  a  few 
minutes  ago,  advised  me  that  it  is  the 
latest  fashion  to  build  nests  in  trees ;  be- 
sides, she  thought  a  nest  on  the  ground 
was  in  danger  from  marauding  enemies 
at  night.  It  must  be  very  dark  here  on 
the  ground  at  night,  sir." 

"Pooh!  the  vain,  silly  thing!  What 
does  Miss  Pheasant  know  about  ducks' 
nests,  anyhow  ?  I  think  if  your  good  old 
mother  didn't  know  how  to  build  nests 
and  where  to  build  them,  it's  not  for 
the  like  of  Miss  Pheasant  to  teach  her. 
Brides,  how  could  your  enemies  see 
you  or  your  nest  in  the  darkness  of  the 


144 

night?  And  how  would  you  get  your 
young  down  to  the  ground  when  once 
they  were  hatched  in  the  lofty  trees  ? 
They  might  fall  out  and  break  their 
precious  necks.  Poor  little  dears  !  "  said 
he  with  ereat  show  of  emotion. 

"  I'm  sure  I  don't  know  what  is  best," 
said  she. 

"  I  am  astonished,  Mrs.  Wood-Duck," 
said  he,  *'  that  you  should  depart  from 
the  w^ays  of  your  dear  old  mother. 
Alas !  the  ingratitude  of  the  rising  gen- 
eration !  You  wouldn't  do  such  a  thing, 
would  you,  now?  Your  poor  old  mother 
would  turn  over  in  her  grave  if  she 
knew  you  did  such  a  thing." 

He  could  plainly  see  that  Mrs.  Wood- 
Duck  was  greatly  affected ;  and  as  he 
limped  away  he  gleefully  and  rightly  de- 
cided she  would  finish  building  her  nest 
right  where   she   had   begun   it.      In   due 


14S 

season  he  enjoyed  the  feast  he  originally 

planned. 

Moral  : 

The  Roman  Catholics  persuading  young 
persons  to  remain  in  the  Church  because 
their  mothers  were  Roman  Catholics. 


Do  They  Remember? 


The  flowers  she  wore  on  her  breast  that 
day  ; 
Do  they  remember? 
Will  they  bloom   for  me  in  the   heart   of 
May? 
Or  in  December  ? 
Did  they  hear  and  know,  and  what  would 

they  say  ? 
She  wore  them  for  me  on  her  breast  that 
day; 
Do  they  remember  ? 
With  their  lips  of  pink,  and  their  eyes  of 
blue. 
Do  they  remember? 
What  do  they  know  ?  could  they  tell  it  to 
you  ? 


147 

Do  they  remember  ? 
Would  they  dare  to  tell  what  they  saw  and 

heard  ? 
Could   they   tell   of  her  blushes   and   one 
sweet  word  ? 
Do  they  remember  ? 


«A.'>sA7s*»^«5>4*>t-r» 


Never  a  Dream. 


Never  a  dream  of  the  heart  or  the  brain, 
That    once   thrilled    the    pulse,   but   will 

thrill  it  again ; 
Never  a  love  of  the  pure  and  the  true. 
But  will  cling  to  the  heart  and  the  mem- 
ory too. 


My  Harp  and  L 


I  sang  to  my  Harp  one  morning  in  June, 

And  listened  to  hear  its  reply ; 
For  each  word  of  my  song  came  a  note  of 
my  tune, 
As  I  listened  to  hear  its  reply. 
But  its  strings  are  now  broken, 
And  I  know  by  this  token, 
"  Farewell "  was  the  word  of  its  sigh. 
And  I  know  by  this  token, 
As  if  by  words  spoken, 
'*  Farewell "  was  the  word  of  its  sigh. 

I  sang  to  the  orchard,  to  the  blossoming 

trees. 
And  listened  to  hear  their  reply  ; 
I  heard  my  song  echoed  in  the  hum  of  the 

bees, 


149 

As  I  listened  to  hear  their  reply. 
But  December  is  coming, 
And  I  knew  by  their  humming, 
''  P^irewell "  was  their  word  of  reply. 
And  I  knew  by  this  token. 
As  If  by  words  spoken, 
'*  Farewell "  was  their  word  of  reply. 

I  sang  to  a  robin,  just  building  her  nest, 

And  listened  to  hear  her  reply. 
She  sang  my  sweet  song  from  the  red  on 
her  breast. 
As  I  listened  to  hear  her  reply. 
But  I  knew  by  her  singing 
She  soon  would  be  winging 
Her  flight  to  a  far-away  clime. 
And  I  knew  by  this  token. 
As  if  by  words  spoken, 
**  Farewell  "  was  her  word  of  reply. 

I  sang  to  my  Love,  that  morning  in  June, 

And  listened  to  hear  her  reply. 
With  a  smile  and  a  tear  she  answered  my 
tune. 


150 

As  I  listened  to  hear  her  reply. 
But  our  love  is  now  broken, 
And  I  know  by  this  token, 
"  Farewell"  was  the  word  of  her  sigh. 
And  I  know  by  this  token, 
As  if  by  words  spoken, 
''  Farewell  "  was  the  word  of  her  sigh. 

I  sane  to  the  wide  world,  that  morninor  in 
June, 
And  listened  to  hear  its  reply. 
The  earth  and   the  sky   all   answered    my 
tune. 
As  I  listened  to  hear  its  reply. 
But  the  days  will  grow  colder, 
And  my  life  vj'iW  grow  older ; 
*'  Farewell  "  was  the  word  of  my  sigh  ; 
And  I  know  by  this  token, 
As  if  by  words  spoken, 
**  Farewell  "  was  its  word  of  reply. 


[Music  by  the  author  to  the  above  words  will  be  sent  post-paid  for 
ten  cents  by  the  publishers.] 


There  was  Love  in  Her  Eyes. 


There    was    love    In    her    eyes    that    day, 
Jamie  ; 

There  was  love  in  her  eyes  that  day  ; 
As    plain    as    words    could    have    told    it, 
Jamie, 

There  was  love  in  her  heart  for  me. 
But  now,  alas  !  there's  never  a  glance,  — 

Never  a  tell-tale  e'e. 
Unhappy  I  as  time  drags  by  ; 

There's  never  a  glance  for  me. 

I  remember  her  eyes  that  day,  Jamie  ; 

It  is  all  I  have  left,  'tis  true  ; 
But   I'd   give    this   world,   and    all    of    it, 
Jamie, 

If  she'd  glance  as  she  used  to  do. 
For  now,  alas  !  there's  never  a  glance,  — 

Never  a  tell-tale  e'e. 


152 

Unhappy  I  as  cime  drags  by  ; 
There's  never  a  glance  for  me. 

I  cannot  tell  why  she  blames  me,  Jamie ; 

She  was  happy,  I  know,  that  day  ; 
She  wore  my  flowers  as  if  proud  of  them, 
Jamie  ; 

But  now  she  has  thrown  them  awa\\ 
For  now,  alas  !  there's  never  a  glance,  — 

Never  a  tell-tale  e'e. 
Unhappy  I  as  time  drags  by  ; 

There's  never  a  glance  for  me. 

Our  lives  will  be  drifting  apart,  Jamie  ; 

The  world  is  as  wide  as  that  day  ; 
Will  she  forget  or  remember  it,  Jamie, 

There  was  love  in  her  eyes  for  me  ? 
But  now,  alas  !   there's  never  a  glance,  — 

Never  a  tell-tale  e'e. 
Unhappy  I  as  time  drags  by ; 

There's  never  a  crlance  for  me. 

[Music  by  the  author  to  the  above  words  will  be  sent  post-paid  by 
the  publishers,  for  ten  cents.] 


The  Heart  of  my  Sv/eetheart. 


The  heart  of  my  sweetheart 
Is  a  garden  with  flowers ; 
Her  love  is  the  roses  ; 
Her  tears  are  the  showers. 
She's  pettish,  she's  bright,  - 

Like  the  clouds  and  the  sky ; 
She's  never  quite  happy,  — 
And  neither  am  I, — 
Unless  we  are  wooing, 
And  proposing  next  June, 
To  surely  be  wedded 

When  the  rose  is  in  bloom. 

If  she  knows  her  own  mind, 
It  is  more  than  I  know ; 
For  in  winter  her  garden 
Is  covered  with  snow  ; 


1S4 

But  the  sunshine  of  love 
Will  melt  it  like  rain, 

And  I  know  that  her  roses 

Will  blossom  again  ; 

For  who  can  tell  when 

Her  glad  springtime  shall  be 

Or  when  she  will  share 
Her  sweet  summer  with  me  ? 

But  the  autumn  will  come, 

When  her  summer  is  blown  ; 

When  her  love  has  but  ripened, 

And  her  heart  is  my  own  ; 

When  her  fruits  are  all  garnered,  — 
Her  flowers  more  dear ; 

When  her  love  has  grown  warmer, 

Though  the  winter  is  near ; 

I'll  dream  like  a  traveller 

At  rest  'neath  her  bowers. 

The  heart  of  my  sweetheart 
Is  a  garden  with  flowers. 

[Music  by  tlie  author  to  the  above  words  will  be  sent  post-paid 
by  the  publishers  for  ten  cents.] 


The  Lover's  Lay. 


O  Lady  fair,  my  Harp  I'll  take 
And  sing  to  thee  a  lover's  lay. 

My  Harp  and  song  I'll  ne'er  forsake, 
And  always  sing  this  lover's  lay. 

Now,  Harp  of  mine,  thy  chords  awake  ; 

Thou  ne'er  hast  sighed  a  sweeter  lay. 
Come,  help  me  now  this  song  to  make  ; 

Come,  help  me  sing  this  lover's  lay. 

O  Lady  fair,  our  sweetest  song 
My  Harp  and  I  to  thee  will  sing. 

To  thee,  the  fairest  notes  belong ; 

We'll  wake  for  thee  the  sweetest  string. 

Oh,  Love  is  not  a  transient  flower 

That   blows    and   blooms  'neath    fairest 
skies ; 


1S6 

'Mid  snow  and  storm,  and  sun  and  shower, 
I  see  it  gleam  in  tranquil  eyes. 

When  fairest  eyes  and  brightest  smiles 
Would  tempt  the  heart  from  thee  to  rove, 

It  spurns  and  scorns  such  fatal  wiles, 
And  turns  to  thee  with  thoughts  of  love. 

When  other  joys  and  friendships  woo, 
And  round  the  heart  their  graces  twine, 

It  sighs  alone  ;  it  beats  for  you  ; 

And    whispers :     "  Thine,    Love  ;     only 
thine." 

When  sadness  rules  within  the  heart. 
And  thoughts  recall  a  happier  day, 

I'll  not  forget  my  song  and  Harp, 
And  always  sing  this  lover's  lay. 


To 


ON    HER    FIFTEENTH    BIRTHDAY. 

Twice  seven  consenting  years  had  shed 
Their  grace  and  gladness  o'er  thy  head. 
Sweet  childhood's  days  had  scarcely  flown  ; 
Sweet  childish  grace  was  yet  thine  own  ; 
When  still  another  summer  came, 
And  left  thy  heart  not  quite  the  same. 
Thy  cheek  more  fair,  and  in  thine  eyes 
The  tranquil  blue  of  summer  skies  ; 
And    something    changed    thine    air  and 

form  ; 
Thy   lips    more    sweet,    thy    glance    more 

warm. 
And  if  I  guess  thy  riddle  well. 
Some  strange  new  thought  thy  heart  could 

tell. 
Stay,  Cupid,  stay  thy  cruel  dart ! 
Yet  spare,  oh,  spare  this  maiden  heart ! 


Listening  Love. 


Tell  me  not  in  words,  sweet  Nell, 

That  your  love  is  mine  ; 

Write  it  not  with  golden  pen, 

Write  me  not  a  line  ; 

For  well  I've  known  since  first  we  met 

That  all  your  love  is  mine. 

I  heard  it  in  your  voice,  sweet  Nell, 
When  once  we  sang  together  ; 
Again  as  plain  as  words  could  tell 
When  you  spoke  about  the  weather ; 
And  well  I've  known  since  first  we  met 
That  all  your  love  is  mine. 

You  prattled  to  a  babe,  sweet  Nell, 
Upon  its  mother's  knee  ; 


159 

It  was  the  merest  nonsense,  Nell, 
You  were  telling  love  to  me  ; 
Like  music  hushed  within  its  shell, 
You  were  tellino-  love  to  me. 

You  told  it  to  your  bird,  sweet  Nell, 

When  I  was  listening  by  ; 

'Twas    something    in    your    tones,   sweet 

Nell, 
No  bird  could  answer  why — 
You   were   telling    me    your   love,    sweet 

Nell, 
While  I  was  listening  by. 

We    watched    the    sunset    clouds,    sweet 

Nell, 
The  moon,  the  stars,  the  skies  — 
You  spoke  it  not  aloud,  sweet  Nell, 
I  saw  it  in  your  eyes  ; 
As  plain  as  words  could  be,  sweet  Nell, 
I  saw  it  in  your  eyes. 


160 

That   night    I   touched    your  hand,    sweet 

Nell, 
'Twas  like  a  fairy's  thrill ; 
The  moon  was  veiled  behind  a  cloud, 
And  all  the  world  was  still  ; 
You  told  me  all  your  love,  sweet  Nell, 
While  all  the  world  was  still. 


To 


Like  a  harp  that  still  is  sighing 
Notes  of  love  and  friendship  past, 
Though  the  hand  that  touched  it's  lying 
Far  from  friends  and  friendly  grasp ; 

Like  a  harp  that  once  in  gladness 
Sang  a  sweet  and  joyous  strain,  — 
Joyous  then,  but  now  in  sadness 
Echoes  back  those  notes  again  ; 

Like  a  harp  that  long  hath  slumbered, 
Waiting  for  some  hand  of  yore,  — 
For  the  hand  that  once  could  wake  it. 
Now,  alas  !  can  wake  no  more  : 

Thus  my  heart,  from  tears  and  weeping. 
Turns  again  in  dreams  to  thee  ; 
Feigning  once  again  a  greeting 
Which  it  knows  can  never  be. 


New  Year's  Greeting. 


You're  in  my  heart  to-day,  Nell, 
And  will  be  all  the  year  ; 
No  word  that  I  could  say,  Nell, 
No  thought  that  is  too  dear, 
That  I  might  not  repeat  it,  Nell, 
Through  all  the  glad  New  Year. 

No  joy  that  is  too  bright,  Nell, 
No  wish  that  can  come  true, 
No  heart  that  is  too  light,  Nell ; 
I'd  give  them  all  to  you. 
And  if  you  would  but  keep  it,  Nell, 
I'd  give  my  Love  to  you. 


Mating-Day. 


Tis  Mating-Day,  sweet  Nell,  and  from  the 

skies, 
The  sunbeams  woo  the  willing  earth  ; 
And   on  the  maiden's   cheek   and    in    the 

youth's  lorn  eyes 
The  love-gleams  say  :  'Tis  Mating-Day. 

The  soft  sea  shimmers  in  a  trancing  mood ; 

The  buds  are  bursting  to  give  the  blos- 
soms birth  ; 

From  every  cliff  and  dale  and  hill  and 
wood 

Sings  promise  of  the  May  :  Tis  Mating- 
Day. 

Tis  Mating-Day,  sweet  Nell,  and  in  thine 
eyes, 


164 


And  on  thy  cheek,  and  on  thy  Hps  I  see  — 
Fairer  than  ev'ry  blossom  of  ev'ry  tree, 
Sweeter  than  ev'ry  rose  of  ev'ry  cHme, 
Brighter  than  ev'ry  glow  of  sunset- time  — 
The  love  my  soul  would  live  to  hear  thee 
speak. 

To  A  Young  Lady 

WHO    SENT    THE    AUTHOR    A    PIECE    OF    CAKE 
MADE    BY    HER    OWN    FAIR    HANDS. 

The  cake  was  so  fair,  so  rich  and  so  rare, 

So  sweet,  so  delicious  in  flavor, 

That   to  judge   it  aright,  in  truth,   Clara, 

I  might 
Guess  its  goodness  was  caught   from    its 

maker. 


You  Touched  Me. 


You  touched  me,  Love,  and  then  I  knew 
That  I  had  hved  for  none  but  you  ; 
That  all  my  life,  that  all  my  past, 
Had  trended  straight  to  you  at  last. 

Like  fruits  that  tremble  on  the  bough, 
O'er  ripe  till  some  sure  hand  below 
Is  held  to  save,  then  leave  the  tree, 
So  from  my  past  I've  come  to  thee. 

'Twas  like  one  lost  who  finds  his  way  ; 
He  cannot  doubt,  he  cannot  stay, 
But  swift  on  winged  feet  doth  flee ; 
So  swift  I  came,  my  Love,  to  thee. 

As  sunbeams  rest  on  winter  hills, 
And  melt  their  snows  to  summer  rills, 


166 

That  haste  away  to  join  the  sea, 
So  melt  I,  Love,  and  haste  to  thee. 

Thou  art  my  past,  thou  art  my  tree  ; 
I've  left  them  all  to  cling  to  thee. 
Thy  hand  hath  saved,  thy  touch  set  free ; 
Thou  art  my  sun,  thou  art  my  sea. 


Thou  Art  My  Sea. 


Thou  art  my  sea,  and  on  -thy  breast, 
ril  trusting  sleep  and  tranquil  rest. 
When  storms  shall  burst  and  winds  shall 

sweep, 
I'll  safely  hide  within  thy  deep. 

When  clouds  above,  like  fields  of  snow, 
Shall  cast  their  dark  on  thee  below, 
I'll  woo  the  winds  to  drive  away 
The  shades  that  dim  thy  perfect  day. 

If  in  thy  rage,  when  tempests  roar. 
Thou  dash  me  from  thee  'gainst  the  shore, 
I'll  still  consent :  "  Thou  art  my  sea," 
And,  like  thy  waves,  return  to  thee. 

In  night's  deep  dome,  —  a  sea  above,  — 
The  starlit  sky  shall  arch  our  love  ; 
With  Love  and  Faith  and  Fate  in  thee 
There'll  be  no  death,  no  other  sea. 


To  A  Lady 

WHO   PRESENTED    THE    AUTHOR   A    NECKTIE. 

There  are  silken  ties  and  hempen  ties, 

And  ties  of  friendship  bind  us ; 

But  ties  that  speak  through  loving  eyes  - 

Bright  eyes  which  still  remind  us 

That  angels  once  to  earth  were  given, 

To  win  our  souls  from  hell  to  heaven, 

And  leave  all  else  behind  us  — 

Alas!  the  ties  of  loving  eyes  — 

How  can  they  be  forgiven  ? 

Without  a  word,  a  token, 

How  can  they  lift  the  soul  to  heaven, 

Then  leave  the  heart  so  broken. 


On  Seeing  a  Reptile 

FLEE    FROM    THE    PATfl    OF   THE    AUTHOR. 

Fly   not,   little  reptile !   I  would   not  harm 

thee, 
Though  dark  superstition  has  made  me  thy 

foe. 
Let    not    my    presence    disturb    or   alarm 

thee,  — • 
The  rude  hand  of  anger  shall  deal  thee  no 

blow. 

Though  priests  shall  deride  with  fanatical 

din. 
And    make    thee    the    emblem    of    man's 

basest  passion, 
Impute  to  thy  wiles  the  original  sin. 
In  one   friendly  eye  thou   shalt  meet  but 

compassion. 


170 

If  a  serpent  beguiled  our  first  mother,  and 

led  her 
By   the   promise   of  wisdom    our   woe    to 

begin, 
I  cannot  malign  the  mild  hand  that  fed  her, 
Or  deny,  little  reptile,  we  are  brothers  in  sin. 

But  aloof  let  me  stand  from  thy  guiltless 
dominion  ; 

Tis  man's  vilest  nature  has  led  him 
awrong  :  — 

Accursed  be  the  fate  of  fanatic  opinion 

That  has  trampled  and  tortured  thy  exist- 
ence so  long. 

If  a  few  of  thy  race  resent  with  a  sting 
The  foot  that  would  tread  out  thy  life  with 

its  heel, 
Thou  art  not  to   be  loathed  as  the  most 

wicked  thinof 
Till  men  are  less  vile  and  more  tender  to 

feel. 


171 

Adieu,  little  reptile !  some  hand  more  un- 
kind 

May  find  thee  and  slay  thee  to  wreak  a 
revenge 

Which  the  unfeeling  hate  of  an  untutored 
mind 

Has  heired  from  a  race  of  degenerate 
men. 

To  A  Woman 

WHO     BEGGED     THE     AUTHOR     TO    TELL    HER 
OF    SOMETHING   TO    DO. 

An  artist  should  not  live  by,  but  for,  his 
art.  Do  not  do  to  live,  but  live  to  do. 
Go  out  to  the  world,  and  the  world  will 
come  to  you  ;  and  in  just  the  way  and  in 
just  the  degree  you  go  out  to  it.  Do 
the  first  and  nearest  thing  to  you,  and  the 
next  thing,  and  the   next,  and  the  next, 


172 

will  come  filing  along  to  be  done,  just 
as  one  person  files  and  pushes  after  an- 
other to  shake  the  hand  of  a  dignitary  at 
a  reception. 

Pretty  soon  things  to  do  will  come 
plucking  at  your  elbows ;  they  will  catch 
at  you,  and  cling  to  your  gown  as  briers 
do  when  you  pass  amid  a  thicket.  Do 
not  fear.  If  the  thorns  pluck  the  wool 
from  the  passing  sheep,  it  is  for  the  birds 
to  build  their  nests ;  the  sheep  will  never 
lack  for  wool. 

John  Gandy  and  L 


I  wish  I  could  describe  what  a  beauti- 
ful opportunity  came  to  me  this  morning 
while  I  was  waiting  for  the  train.  A 
bright   colored   boy  approached    me,   and 


173 

before  I  could  hardly  comprehend  it,  he 
had  told  me  in  a  bashful,  innocent  way 
that  he  was  just  out  of  the  Cheltenham, 
Md.,  Reformatory,  where  he  had  spent 
five  years  a  United  States  prisoner  for 
stealing  a  letter. 

*'  Well,  my  boy,"  said  I,  **  IVe  done 
worse  things  for  me  than  that  was  for 
you  ;  though  that  was  bad  enough." 

''  No,  sir ;  you  ain't  no  bad  man,"  said  he. 

**  Yes,  I  am ;  but  you  and  I  were  born 
different,  though  neither  of  us  could  help 
it." 

Then  he  showed  me  his  credentials 
from  the  prison,  and  seemed  to  think  it 
his  chief  recommendation  that  his  five 
years  had  been  shortened  ten  days  for 
good  behavior. 

He  told  me  of  the  '*  licks,"  as  he  called 
them,  with  the  raw  hide,  and  of  the 
dungeon  and  starving  as  punishments. 


174 

The  United  States  Government  had 
given  him  a  railroad  ticket  back  to  Ala- 
bama, and  $i.io  in  money  ;  for  this  great 
and  good  government  of  ours  delivers  a 
prisoner  back  where  it  catches  him.  An- 
other yellow  boy  had  been  sent  to  his 
liberty  in  Texas,  the  two  coming  as  far 
as  Cincinnati  together.  The  yellow  boy 
had  gone  on,  and  left  this  boy  to  wait  for 
a  later  train.  This  boy  was  lonesome,  and 
among  strangers.  He  had  just  parted 
with  his  only  friend,  a  boyish  companion 
in  guilt,  disgrace,  and  punishment. 

*'  Why  did  you  approach  me,  and  tell 
me  this  bad  about  yourself?"  said  I. 

"  I  couldn't  help  tellin'  you,  sir.  I  had 
to  tell  somebody,"  said  he. 

Then  I  did  a  lot  of  thinking  about  as 
swift  as  lightning. 

Here  was  a  human  being ;  he  knew 
nothing  ;  he  had  nothing  except  his  crime 


175 

and  the  pride  of  having  expiated  It,  and 
the  recommendation  of  having  shortened 
the  five  years  ten  days  by  good  behavior. 
He  was  too  innocent  to  be  ashamed  of  it. 
His  skin  was  black ;  but  how  I  wished 
my  soul  were  as  Innocent  and  white  as 
his! 

Then  for  the  first  time  came  to  me  the 
sweet  thought  of  the  beneficence  of  ex- 
piation,—  when  the  punished  soul  can 
say:  "I  have  suffered  enough:  I  am 
innocent  again." 

Now  I  had  to  say  to  him  a  hard  thing  : 

"  My  boy,  you  have  done  yourself  no 
harm  by  telling  me  all  this  about  yourself ; 
but  don't  ever  in  your  life  tell  anybody 
else.  They  will  think  worse  of  you  for 
it ;  nearly  everybody  will.  Be  a  good  boy, 
and  let  people  believe  you  have  always 
been  g-ood." 

A   cloud    came    over   his    face,   and   he 


176 

looked  ashamed  ;  but  back  of  It  a  mute 
consciousness  seemed  to  say:  ''What  can 
I  talk  about?     I  have  nothing  else." 

Here  I  thouorht  the  consolations  of 
religion  would  ordinarily  be  offered  him  ; 
and  while  he  was  thanking  me  for  some 
coins  I  gave  him,  the  look  seemed  to 
come  into  his  face  that  I  certainly  must 
be  religious ;  so  I  said  : 

"  You  may  suppose  that  I  am  a 
Christian  ?  " 

"Yes,"  said  he. 

"  I  am  not,"  said  I. 

At  our  parting  he  gave  me  the  cold, 
gripless,  tapering  hand  that  belongs  to 
one  born  without  either  aggressive  or 
inhibitive  powers. 

We  both  said  "  Goodby,"  he  not  know- 
ing, and  I  forgetting,  that  "Goodby" 
meant  originally  "  God  be  with  you." 

He  was    the  most    frank,   honest,   and, 


177 


at  present,  most  innocent  person  I  have 
met  in  many  a  day. 

When   and   where   in   the   universe  will 
John  Gandy  and  I  meet  again  ? 


The  Hawk,  the  Crow,  and  the  Hen. 


''  Why  do  you  sit  so  quietly  here  upon 
the  tree  ?  "  said  a  passing  hawk  to  a  crow. 

''  I  am  waiting  for  that  hen  upon  her 
nest  yonder  to  lay  an  egg  for  my  break- 
fast," said  the  crow. 

''  Ho!  ho  !  "  said  the  hawk  ;  "  before  she 
furnishes  you  your  breakfast,  she  shall 
afford  me  my  dinner." 

Whereupon,  with  one  swoop  he  robbed 
the  hen  of  her  life  and  the  crow  of  his 
breakfast. 


178 

Moral  : 


Two    acts    or    intentions    may    each   be 
bad,  and  yet  one  worse  than  another. 


— ^fls^^<%^^'^^ 


The  Priest  and  the  Sage. 


A  priest  met  a  sage  upon  the  highway. 

'*  Who  art  thou  ?  "  said  the  priest. 

*'  How  can  I  tell  thee  in  few  words  ? " 
replied  the  sage. 

"If  thou  art  not  ashamed  of  thyself 
and  thy  calling,  thou  canst  soon  tell  who 
thou  art,"  said  the  priest. 

"If  I  tell  thee  who  men  say  that  I 
am,  or  who  I  think  I  am,  I  should  be 
telling  thee  only  two  opinions  of  myself, 
which  might  be  in  error  in  either  case," 
replied  the  sage. 


179 

*'  I  can  ask  thy  neighbors  their  opinion 
of  thee,  but  thou  alone  canst  tell  me 
thy  opinion  of  thyself:  speak,"  said  the 
priest,  ''or  I  will  belabor  thee  with  my 
staff." 

''  I  am  only  a  man  walking  to  yonder 
town  to  buy  some  bread  for  my  repast. 
What  more  I  am  I  know  not,"  replied 
the  sage. 

**Thou  art  a  useless  vagabond,"  said 
the  priest.  ''  I  am  a  priest,  and  I  know 
the  altar  where  I  minister." 

The  sage  started  on,  murmuring; 
"  Yes,  yes ;  the  Chinee  knoweth  his 
Joss-House ;  the  Hindoo  knoweth  his 
temple ;  the  priest  knoweth  his  altar ;  the 
dog  knoweth  his  kennel,  and  the  ass 
knoweth  his  crib." 


Tranquillity. 


Perhaps  the  highest  development  which 
civiHzation  may  be  expected  to  achieve 
"will  be  to  enable  the  individual  to  attain 
tmto  tranquillity.  This  will  mean  a  state 
of  healthful  reciprocation,  or  harmony 
with  one's  environment.  The  individual 
will  resist  the  encroachments  of  environ- 
ment enough  for  self-preservation,  and  use 
it  sufficiently  to  promote  healthy,  evenly 
balanced  advancement.  Individual  ner- 
vous systems  will  not  then  vary  so  often 
and  so  widely  from  the  sane  and  tranquil 
type  which  illustrates  the  highest  devel- 
opment of  man.  By  that  time  society 
will  have  become  so  perfectly  organized 
that    the    individual    will    know    that    he 


181 

cannot  injure  another  without  Injuring 
society,  and  that  he  cannot  injure  so- 
ciety without  injuring  himself.  Instead 
of  joy  or  happiness  being  restricted  to 
only  a  few  moments,  or,  at  most,  only  a 
few  hours  of  a  whole  human  life,  it  will 
then  include  most  of  the  years  which  in- 
tervene between  the  intended  birth  and 
the  normal  death  of  the  individual.  One 
year  then  will  be  worth  more  than  a 
whole  life  is  worth  at  present ;  just  as 
one  year  of  the  life  of  a  civilized  man 
is  worth  more  than  a  whole  cycle  of  the 
life  of  a  savage.  A  child  born  to  his 
natural  lenorth  of  life  in  that  sort  of  so- 
cial  and  individual  tranquillity  would  be 
heir  to  more  than  if  born  to  a  thousand 
years  of  the  present  state  of  civilization. 
There  are  two  Ideas  which  are  equally 
inclusive,  —  Liberty,  Justice.  The  execu- 
tion  of  them    In    the    world,  united    with 


182 

wise  living,  would  soon  develop  both  in- 
dividual and  social  tranquillity. 

The  majority  of  men  and  women  at 
present  do  not  spend  their  time  think- 
ing how  they  shall  do  justice,  but  how 
they  shall  advantage  their  own  selfish- 
ness by  injustice  toward  others.  They 
do  not  study  how  they  themselves  and 
others  may  be  free,  but  how  they  may 
enslave  others,  and  they  themselves  re- 
main libertines. 

Doing  justice,  makes  the  doer  free  ;  and 
receiving  justice  leaves  one  free  to  do.  To 
give  liberty  makes  the  giver  free.  How 
do  you  know  it  does  ?  Every  one  knows 
it  who  has  tried  it.  None  would  know 
what  justice  is  if  somebody  had  not  suffered 
injustice.  None  would  know  what  liberty 
is  if  somebody  had  not  endured  bonds. 

I  don't  like  to  give  humanity  and  civ- 
ilization up  in  despair. 


About  Woman. 


I  am  convinced  that  women  know 
some  things  which  men  do  not  know. 
She  whose  heart-beats  have  forced  her 
own  blood  through  the  heart  and  veins 
of  another  being  knows  something  which 
men  cannot  know.  Woman's  being  is 
interwoven  a  Httle  closer  than  man's  with 
the  mysteries  of  birth,  life,  and  death. 
In  all  time  women  have  been  called 
superstitious.  They  have  sought  oracles 
and  sooth-sayers,  and  believed  in  an 
invisible  world,  and  in  subtile,  incom- 
prehensible influences.  In  her  instincts 
and  experiences  of  motherhood,  in  her 
lone  and  silent  vigils  of  the  night  or  of 
solitude,    she    has    felt    that    she    was    a 


184 

little  nearer  than  man  the  instrument 
which  fate  uses  to  promote  the  ends 
of  existence.  ]\Ien  have  not  heeded 
this  enough ;  they  have  overlooked  it, 
brushed  it  aside,  or  trampled  it  down, 
in  their  mad  rush  for  the  cruder  things 
of  life.  But  I  am  convinced  that  when 
all  this  subtler  insight  of  woman  is  lis- 
tened to  and  encouraged  and  collated,  it 
will  be  the  nearest  a  message  from  the 
Divine  which  has  ever  yet  been  received 
by  man.  While  the  world  has  been  listen- 
ing to  the  male  bird  perched  upon  the 
topmost  branch,  it  has  forgotten  the 
silent  mate  who  has  hovered,  with  her 
warm,  downy  breast,  the  very  germs 
that  perpetuate  the  race. 

He  who  will  study  and  try  to  under- 
stand and  collate  and  publish  to  the 
world  (publish  even  to  woman  herself) 
this  finer  insight  of  w^oman  into  the  mys- 


186 

terles  of  existence,  will  add  a  new  chap- 
ter to  the  wisdom  of  the  ages.  Neither 
men  nor  women  have  respected  woman's 
intellectuality  enough.  She  may  often 
be  mistaken  in  reo^ard  to  herself;  she 
may  appear  absurd,  especially  to  men ; 
she  may  be  bashful  about  alluding  to 
her  mental  states  and  impressions,  be- 
cause they  have  always  been  tabooed 
by  men ;  she  has  been  caused  to  repress 
and  conceal  rather  than  to  cultivate  and 
express  them ;  but  the  evidences  are 
that  she  is  breaking  through  these  re- 
straints;  that  she  is  discovering  herself; 
and,  within  the  next  thirty  years,  I  be- 
lieve we  shall  see  the  virile  powers  of 
self-knowing  woman  added  to  the  active 
and  bettering  influences  of  the  world. 

When  civilization  shall  have  reached  its 
ultimate  development ;  when  the  records 
of    all    influences    that   contributed    to    it 


186 


shall  have  been  made  up,  —  I  believe  the 
female  human  element  will  form  the  con- 
stituent part  of  it. 

Horses,  dogs,  domestic  and  wild  ani- 
mals ;  fishes,  birds,  and  creeping  things ; 
plants,  the  waters,  and  the  sky,  —  will  all 
have  contributed  their  share  to  civiliza- 
tion ;  and  male-man  will  have  contributed 
his.  But  the  female  human  element  — 
that  first  and  last,  best,  tenderest,  com- 
passionate element  of  humanity ;  the  one 
that  has  been  trampled  and  disregarded ; 
the  one  that  has  answered  cruelty  with 
tears  only ;  the  one  that  has  been  brood- 
ing over  and  protecting  the  eternal  verities 
as  embodied  in  humanity,  —  this  element 
will  come  at  last  to  master  all,  and  be  as 
modest  then  as  it  is  now. 

I  never  had  any  hope  for  civilization 
until  I  saw  evidences  of  this. 


A.BOUT  Motherhood. 


The  pre-Christian  Jew-woman  desired 
motherhood,  because  without  it  she  failed 
of  her  probable  opportunity  to  become 
the  mother  of  a  king  in  the  person  of 
the  prophesied  Christ.  And  this  is  one 
of  the  harms  the  preaching  of  a  Christ 
already  come  has  done ;  it  took  away  the 
specific  hope  and  ambition  of  woman. 
This  hope,  which  might  inspire  every 
virgin  without  respect  to  rank,  also  kept 
her  true  to  herself  and  to  her  people. 
While  in  her  marriage  she  lost  her  op- 
portunity of  becoming  the  actual  mother 
of  the  Christ,  she  still  retained  the  hope 
that  she  might  be  one  of  his  progen- 
itors. 


188 

It  Is  the  hope  the  gentile  women  of 
the  world  have  in  motherhood  that  will 
most  influence  the  tendencies  of  civiliza- 
tion. Show  me  the  rewards  of  mother- 
hood held  before  the  women  of  a  nation, 
and  I  will  prophesy  the  ultimate  civiliza- 
tion of  that  nation.  What  are  the  re- 
wards of  American  motherhood  ?  Of 
the  European  ?  Of  the  Chinese  ?  Of 
the  Hindu?  Of  the  Hottentot?  Is  the 
American  mother  like  the  hen  who  know- 
ingly hovers  her  brood  for  the  market? 
If,  perchance,  a  child  be  intentionally 
begotten  In  America,  what  Is  the  hope 
that  inspires  the  heart  of  the  mother? 
Is  it  for  the  church  at  the  behest  of 
the  priest?  Is  it  for  love?  Is  it  for 
the  State  ?  Is  It  for  the  completion  of 
her  own  being  ;  for  the  satisfying  of  the 
longing  of  the  mother  heart?  Is  it  for 
the    man    whom,    perchance,    she    loves, 


189 

hates,  or  fears  ?  Is  It  for  pieces  of 
silver  ?  Is  it  for  civilization  ?  Is  it  for 
humanity?  Is  it  that  she  feels  herself 
a  part  of  the  eternal  economy  of  the 
universe  ;  and  failing,  or  degrading  this, 
she  would  fail  being  the  nearest  possible 
to  the  Divine  ?  Or,  fearing  that,  living 
only  once,  and  failing  to  perpetuate  her- 
self in  offspring,  she  would  die  forever? 

Upon  the  answer  American  women  give 
depends  the  hope  of  our  civilization.  It 
may  be  that  a  certain  reward  or  hope  of 
motherhood  is  better  suited  to  one  stage 
of  civilization  than  to  another ;  but  what- 
ever its  character,  let  it  be  the  highest 
of  which  the  woman  is  capable.  Better 
any  reward — any  hope  —  than  to  be  the 
mother  of  the  unwelcome  children  of  ac- 
cident or  hate.  I  dare  to  say  that  any 
woman  who  eschews  enforced  celibacy, 
who   refuses    to   sell    herself  into   matri- 


190 


mony  or  out  of  it,  but  who  seeks  the 
noblest  motherhood  possible  for  her,  is 
worthy  of  the  highest  respect. 

Alas  for  the  woman  who  is  the  mother 
of  nothing! 


Do  Not  Sell. 


Do  not  sell  your  preachin' ;  do  not 
barter  the  children  of  your  brain,  nor 
the  emotions  of  your  heart.  Who  can 
bring  the  best  of  himself  to  the  marts 
of  men  and  stand  over  it  for  sale  as 
a  market-woman  does  her  vegetables  ? 
Nobody  who  ever  wrote  or  sung  or 
carved  that  which  will  be  immortal,  ever 
rose,  shivering  in  the  dim  morning  light, 
and  trudged  it  to  market. 

For  monetary  gain  you  may  traffic  in 
material  things,  except  your  own  body 
and  the  bodies  of  others.  And  severely 
I  charge  that  you  refuse  to  become  rich 
by  withholding  from  the  laborer  his  just 
wage.      Do  not  use  thy  tongue  or  pen  or 


192 

hand  in  fear,  nor  yet  in  servitude  :  but 
in  freedom. 

Live  so,  and  neither  kings,  nor  station, 
nor  the  plaudits  of  men  can  add  to  you  ; 
and  you  will  be  worthy  the  name  of  man 
or  woman. 


Fighting  for  a  Potato-Patch, 


An  Irishman  and  an  Englishman  were 
engaged  in  combat,  each  claiming  the 
exclusive  right  to  the  same  potato-patch. 
The  Irishman  was  under,  and  the  Eng- 
lishman had  nearly  pounded  the  life  out 
of  him,  when  the  Irishman  exclaimed  : 

"  Shtop  fightin',  my  friend  !  Be  aisy 
a  minit  !  By  the  Holy  Vargin  !  What 
fools  we  are  for  fightin'  over  this  thing ! 


193 

You  go  in  partnership  with  me,  and  then 
we  can  both  have  it." 

"  Never  !  "  cried  the  Englishman,  re- 
suming the  fight ;  ''  for  if  I  go  in  partner- 
ship with  you,  you  will  have  the  potato- 
patch  and  me,  too.  Your  race  is  noted 
for  its  appetite  for  potatoes." 

Morals  : 

1.  Be  not  too  generous,  but  suspect 
the  proposals  of  a  defeated  enemy. 

2.  The  proposal  of  the  Roman  Catho- 
lics to  the  Protestants  for  union. 


The  Vain  Gardener. 


A  gardener  who  possessed  a  good  deal 
of  genius,  and  had  exercised  much  care 
and  skill  during  a  number  of  years,  had 


194 

succeeded  in  rearing  some  fine  fruit-trees 
which  stood  near  the  public  highway. 

The  season  in  which  the  trees  should 
bear  having  arrived,  the  gardener  was 
delighted  to  find  them  loaded  with  fruit 
of  excellent  quality.  But  so  proud  was 
he  of  his  skill,  and  so  anxious  for  the 
world  to  know  of  his  success,  that  he 
could  not  wait  for  the  fruit  to  ripen  and 
the  leaves  to  fall  in  the  autumn.  So  he 
secured  ladders  and  picked  the  green 
leaves  off  the  trees  so  that  the  thick 
clusters  of  fruit  might  appear  to  the 
astonished  view  of  the  passersby,  by 
which  he  expected  to  soon  extend  his 
fame. 

However,  the  trees,  being  robbed  of 
their  leaves  through  which  they  sup- 
ported life  and  nourished  their  fruit, 
soon  withered  ;  and  the  fruit  dried  up 
and  fell  to  the  ground  unripe. 


19B 

**  That  gardener  Is  a  fool,"  said   the 
passersby. 

Moral  : 

Authors,    artists,    and    public    persons 
who  seek  fame  prematurely. 


The  Wife  of  a  Wolf. 


A  fat,  well-grown  ewe  lamb  once  fell 
In  love  with  a  wolf ;  and  when  he  found 
it  out  he  was  much  pleased,  and  married 
her ;  for  he  thought  well  of  enjoying  her 
youthful  tenderness  for  a  season,  and 
then  making  a  meal  of  her.  But  before 
he  could  carry  his  plans  into  execution 
he  was  taken  in  some  of  his  depredations 
and  killed  by  the  hunter. 

His  gentle  wife  mourned  in  due  form 
for  a  year,  and  then  took  an  honest  ram 


196 

from  her  own  tribe  for  a  second  hus- 
band. 

The  ram  was  well  pleased  with  his 
bargain  until  he  found  that  she  desired 
and  expected  him  to  behave  as  the  wolf 
had  done. 

*'Alas!"  said  the  ram,  "  the  enemy  of 
my  race  has  poisoned  my  cup  of  happi- 
ness, for  he  has  corrupted  the  manners 
and  tastes  of  my  wife." 

Moral  : 

It  is  better  to  marry  the  widow  of  a 
gentleman  than  of  a  rogue. 


The  Conspiring  Animals. 


Once  upon  a  time,  in  a  small  open  field 
surrounded  by  deep  jungles,  the  lion,  the 


197 

tiger,  the  leopard,  the  hyena,  the  bear, 
the  wolf,  the  fox,  the  boa-constrictor,  the 
hawk,  the  eagle,  and  other  flesh-eating 
animals,  met  in  convention  to  devise 
means  and  methods  for  the  better  secur- 
ing their  prey.  **For,"  said  they,  **we 
flesh-eating  and  blood-drinking  animals 
are  the  smartest  and  noblest  of  all ;  we 
are  the  true  aristocracy.  We  should  be 
friends  instead  of  enemies.  The  herbiv- 
orous animals  are  our  natural  prey ;  and 
if  we  aid  one  another  we  may  live  better 
and  easier."  Whereupon  they  held  a 
great  feast  united  with  much  merriment. 
They  made  so  much  noise  of  roaring, 
howling,  and  yowling  in  their  revelry, 
that  they  attracted  the  attention  of  the 
herbivorous  animals  of  the  forest,  who 
secretly  sent  a  committee  in  the  darkness 
to  report  what  was  going  on.  They 
appointed   on    this   committee    the    hare 


198 

for  her  acuteness  of  hearing,  the  magpie 
for  her  loquacity,  and  the  deer  for  his 
fleetness  of  foot. 

The  hare,  with  her  great  ears  and 
eyes,  heard  and  saw  much  that  almost 
chilled  her  timid  heart  with  fear ;  and 
the  magpie  and  the  deer  had  all  they 
could  do  to  prevent  her  running  away. 
The  magpie  almost  strangled  herself 
with  her  chattering  loquacity,  and  the 
deer  stamped  his  little  foot  in  mock 
boldness  of  front. 

The  carnivorous  animals  were  uncon- 
scious of  being  observed  by  the  commit- 
tee, and  would  have  laughed  in  derision 
if  they  had  known  they  were. 

When  the  committee  returned  and 
made  such  report  as  they  could,  the 
herbivorous  animals  resolved  to  organize 
an  attack  upon  the  assembled  revel- 
lers. 


199 

They  placed  the  elephant,  the  rhinoce- 
ros, the  hippopotamus,  the  horse,  and 
the  bull  in  front ;  and,  following  them, 
came  the  elk,  the  camel,  the  giraffe,  the 
deer,  the  wild  boar,  the  sheep,  and  a 
multitude  of  other  animals,  down  to  the 
smallest  squirrel.  Among  the  whole 
troop  were  many  jackasses,  who  tried  to 
direct  the  march,  and  made  great  show 
of  courage  from  the  rear  of  the.  column. 

There  was  great  carnage,  although  the 
carnivora,  being  glutted  with  feasting, 
were  not  inclined  to  fight.  (It  was  on 
this  occasion  that  the  ass  kicked  the 
dead  lion,  as  related  in  ^sop's  fable.) 
Many  of  the  herbivora  were  slain,  but 
the  carnivora  were  finally  overpowered 
by  numbers,  and  few  escaped ;  and  to 
this  day  they  are  not  numerous  in  the 
world,  and  are  compelled  to  take  their 
prey,  not  by  boldness,  but  by  stealtL 


200 


Morals  : 


1.  When  prominent  politicians,  prel- 
ates, corporations,  and  trusts,  who  were 
formerly  enemies,  become  friends,  the 
people  should  suspect  conspiracy. 

2.  The  extravagance  and  revelry  of 
the  wealthy  and  official  classes  should 
alarm  the  masses  of  the  people. 

3.  The  honest,  plain  people  may  fin- 
ally become  aroused  and  unite  to  defend 
their  rights,  so  that  they  can  be  taken 
only  by  stealth. 


Jupiter  and  the  Birds. 


Jupiter  once  commanded  the  birds  to 
all  fly  over  a  certain  large  field,  and  each 
bring  back  what  it  should  find. 


201 

When  the  birds  returned  and  had 
assembled  about  the  god,  each  brought 
forward  what  it  had  found  and  laid  it 
at  the  feet  of  Jupiter. 

The  dove  had  found  grains  of  wheat ; 
the  robin  had  found  a  berry  ;  the  hum- 
ming-bird brought  flowers ;  the  hawk 
brought  a  mouse  and  a  young  chicken ; 
the  nightingale  came  forward  singing, 
saying  she  had  found  a  new  song  in- 
spired by  the  beauty  of  the  field  ;  the 
eagle  had  found  a  lamb  ;  the  vulture  had 
found  carrion ;  the  woodpecker  had  found 
worms  and  flies  ;  the  stork  had  found  a 
fish  ;  and  the  wild-duck  had  found  herbs 
and  grasses. 

When  all  the  birds  had  deposited  what 
they  had  found,  it  was  a  sight  such  as 
had  never  met  the  eye  of  bird  or  god 
before. 

''You   see,"  said   Jupiter,    **you   have 


202 

each  found  what  it  was  his  or  her  nature 
to  look  for.  Each  bird,  except  the  night- 
ingale, has  brought  before  me  a  prey. 
Some  have  been  cruel,  some  filthy,  and 
many  of  you  commonplace.  But  the 
nightingale  has  brought  a  new  song  of 
joy  into  the  world,  for  which  nothing  has 
suffered.  Henceforth  she  shall  be  the 
peerless  Queen  of  Song  ;  and,  as  for  the 
rest  of  you,  your  voices,  your  beaks,  and 
plumage  shall  forever  accord  with  what 
you  have  this  day  shown  your  natures 
to  be." 

Morals  : 

1.  In  passing  through  life  persons  find 
what  they  are  looking  for. 

2.  Our  mode  of  life  modifies  our  feat- 
ures, our  tastes  and  manners,  and  our 
natural  powers. 


About  Marriage. 


The  ideal  of  monogynous  and  monan- 
drous  marriage  in  the  United  States,  if 
interfered  with  as  little  as  possible  by 
the  State,  and  not  at  all  by  the  Church, 
is  good  enough  ;  in  fact,  it  is  a  beautiful 
thing,  if  it  hits.  But  this  argues  nothing 
in  favor  of  the  institution.  Such  a  very 
large  percentage  of  marriages  do  not  hit, 
that  the  propriety  and  advantage  of  the 
institution  at  all  is  being  questioned. 
In  any  case,  where  a  marriage  turns  out 
to  be  approximately  ideal,  it  is  not  to  be 
set  to  the  praise  or  blame  of  the  institu- 
tion. Such  cases  are  instances  of  suc- 
cessful sex-selection  or  sex-mating.  Mar- 
riage or  no    marriage  would  not  make 


204 

such  a  couple  live  together  with  greater 
satisfaction  and  fidelity  to  each  other. 

The  institution  of  marriage  is  all  right 
in  itself  to  meet  the  objects  of  its  origin, 
viz.,  to  protect  the  relation  and  offspring 
and  property  rights  of  a  perfectly  sex- 
mated  couple ;  but,  too  often,  the  form 
is  mistaken  for  the  substance  or  principle 
of  the  relation.  Normal  sex-selection  is 
interfered  with  in  the  majority  of  cases, 
and  for  the  incompatible  results  the  in- 
stitution of  marriage  is  blamed. 

Of  all  evils  which  militate  against  the 
welfare  and  development  of  society,  it  is 
probable  that  the  conventional  interfer- 
ence with  normal  sex-selection  is  the 
greatest.  It  causes  many  children  to  be 
born  of  hate,  and  deprives  the  parties 
to  the  relation  of  that  benign  influence 
w^hich  would  otherwise  be  received  from 
associating  with  a  normal  mate, 


208 

The  so-called  lower  animals  choose 
their  mates  with  unerring  success ;  and 
the  uniformity  and  perfection  of  their 
reproduction  is  one  of  the  wonderful  and 
beautiful  things  in  nature.  In  this  re- 
gard man  is  the  exceptional  fool  of  the 
world ;  and  the  outrages  which  he  inflicts 
upon  nature  avenge  themselves  wofully 
upon  his  offspring.  It  is  highly  probable 
that  there  is  hardly  an  imperfection  of 
mind  or  body  that  is  not,  in  a  great 
measure,  traceable  to  this  defect  of  hu- 
man society ;  and  it  is  equally  probable 
that  if  conventional  interference  with  the 
mating  of  human  beings  were  entirely 
abated,  man  would  soon  develop  the 
power  of  mating  as  successfully  as  the 
lower  animals  do.  So  rarely  does  per- 
fect sex-mating  occur  in  civilized  society 
that  normal  sex-propensities  are  hardly 
known,  and  are  certainly  not  understood. 


206 

The  true  marriage  occurs  in  the  hearts 
of  the  lovers, — in  their  known  congenial- 
ity of  mind  and  body  ;  and  what  is  ordi- 
narily called  the  marriage  is  only  the 
announcement  to  the  world  that  the  true 
marriage  has  previously  occurred. 

Civilized  man  and  woman  is  so  sensi- 
tive to  what  (for  want  of  a  better  name) 
may  be  called  personal  magnetism,  or 
the  agreeableness  or  disagreeableness  of 
physical  proximity  or  touch,  that  con- 
geniality in  this  respect  must  be  re- 
garded as  an  essential  in  successful 
mating.  So  many  people  have  been 
born  of  mismated  parents, — so  many 
people  are  perverts  in  a  greater  or  less 
degree, — that  perfectly  mated  normal 
relations  are  exceedingly  uncommon  in 
civilized  society.  Many  persons  do  live 
together  as  man  and  wife,  with  apparent 
and,   as    they   themselves    believe,   with 


207 

great  happiness ;  but  it  is  probable  that 
not  over  one  in  one  hundred  of  such 
couples  realize  the  highest  possible  fe- 
licity  of  such  relations. 

It  is  romantically  and  universally  be- 
lieved in  the  world  that  for  every  person 
there  is,  somewhere  in  the  wide  world, 
one  perfectly  ideal  mate  ;  and  the  belief 
is  probably  founded  in  fact.  It  forms 
the  basis  of  romance,  especially  for  the 
young  ;  and  those  who  find,  or  believe 
they  find,  their  own  and  only  world-wide 
mates  are  the  blessed  among  mankind. 
All  else  in  the  world  is  as  dross  as  com- 
pared with  this. 

Whether  people  often,  or  ever  do,  find 
this  one  only  world-wide  mate  cannot 
be  known,  for  there  are  many  millions  of 
possible  mates  in  the  world  ;  but  true  it 
is,  and  of  frequent  experience,  that  some 
persons  are  better  suited  to  each  other 


208 

than  others  are.  And  though  two  per- 
sons may  marry  who  are  not  world-wide 
mates,  yet  they  may  be  so  approximately 
mated  that  they  go  through  life  with 
tolerable  contentment.  How  each  per- 
son is  to  find  his  or  her  world-wide  or 
approximate  mate,  and  how  they  may 
know,  of  a  certain,  before  public  mar- 
riage, that  they  have  so  found  them,  are 
the  two  most  vital  questions  to  every 
young  person,  and  to  the  whole  of 
human  society. 

This  essay  is  already  too  long,  but  the 
author  believes  that  by  his  study  of  the 
mating  instincts  and  habits  of  the  lower 
animals,  and  by  a  practical  study  of  the 
actual  instincts  and  the  actual  normal 
courtship  experiences  of  well-mated  hu- 
mans, he  may  point  out  some  reliable 
guides  to  persons  who  are  seeking  the 
best    mates    possible    for    them    in    the 


209 

world.  How  to  find,  and  know  that  you 
have  found,  your  mate,  is  the  question. 
The  author  must  leave  this  question  for 
a  future  publication. 

No  person  should  feel  damaged  by 
breach  of  promise  to  marry ;  but  rather 
account  himself  fortunate  in  discovering 
before,  instead  of  after  marriage,  that 
he  or  she  was  not  wanted.  The  courts 
should  so  hold. 

No  couple  should  marry  or  remain 
married  who  need  the  restraints  of  law 
or  custom  to  hold  them  together ;  for 
the  natural  evils  of  remaining  together 
are  greater  than  the  conventional  harms 
of  breaking  asunder.  Wedlock  should 
not  be  a  bond  (no  bond  can  be  a  "holy 
bond "),  but  a  relation  gladly  entered 
into  from  the  freest  choice,  and  joyfully 
continued  without  distraint  or  obligation. 

Painting,  Sculpture,    Poetry,  and    the 


210 

Drama  have  been  the  great  critics  of  all 
the  ages  ;  and  their  sublimest  creations — 
embracing  the  very  motif  ^xid  object  of 
their  existence — have  encircled  and  up- 
held that  one  eternal  principle,  that  sex- 
selection  should  be  left  absolutely  free, 
untrammelled  by  family,  or  feud,  or 
property,  or  rank,  or  race.  The  best  of 
the  world  believe  in  love.  There  have 
been  wars  and  duels  and  sacrifices  for  it. 
The  whole  world  believes  in  the  unerring 
choice  of  love  ;  but  who  can  look  back, 
over  much  or  little  experience,  and  say 
he  or  she  is  certain  of  love  ?  That  is 
our  question  in  another  form. 

When  married  people  find  they  have 
been  mistaken  it  is  criminally  sinful  to 
have  children.  Every  child  has  a  right 
to  be  born  of  parents  who  love  each 
other.  The  sooner  a  mismated  couple 
cease  their  relations  the    better.     Take 


211 


care  that  the  marriages  are  made  right, 
and  the  divorces  will  take  care  of  them- 
selves ;  there  will  be  none. 


Jupiter  and  the  Ants. 


A  colony  of  ants  had  built  the  highest 
mound  they  could,  and  were  dwelling  in 
it  with  commendable  satisfaction,  until 
some  of  them  discovered  that  the  houses 
of  a  city  near  by  were  not  natural  ob- 
jects, but  that  they  were  the  dwellings 
of  a  larger  sort  of  animal  called  man. 

At  this  they  became  dissatisfied  with 
their  own  lot,  and  complained  to  Jupiter 
for  having  made  an  animal  so  much 
larger  than  themselves,  and  who  built 
mounds  of  so  much  greater  magnificence 
than  theirs. 


212 

"  Looked  upon  with  the  eye  of  a 
god,"  replied  Jupiter,  ''  there  is  not  much 
difference  between  you." 

Moral  : 
The  greatest  are  not  worthy  of  envy. 


The  Heifer  and  the  Roses. 


A  young  heifer,  who,  for  the  most 
part,  was  like  the  other  heifers  of  the 
herd,  had  the  opinion  that  she,  herself, 
was  very  refined  ;  and  that  grass,  as  a 
food,  was  too  ordinary  for  her.  She 
said  grass  gave  color  and  beauty  to  the 
landscape,  but,  as  for  food,  it  was  ple- 
beian. So  she  went  about  smelling 
roses  and  other  flowers,  and  never  eat- 
ing anything. 


213 

She  grew  very  thin ;  for  she  kept 
going  about  everywhere,  always  smell- 
ing roses,  and  eating  nothing.  And 
everywhere  she  went  she  kept  m-o-o-ing 
and  complaining  to  the  other  cattle  that 
she  was  starving. 

Some  of  the  other  heifers,  and  even  a 
few  of  the  bull-calves,  sympathized  with 
her ;  but  at  last  she  came  to  an  old  bull, 
to  whom  she  complained,  who  said  : 

**  Alas  !  madam,  you  will  have  to  eat 
grass  like  the  rest  of  us." 

Moral  : 
The  destitute  aesthete  or  sentimentalist. 


The  Ox  with  the  Silver  Flanks. 


A    DREAM. 


It  was  summer-time.  I  had  been 
drooning  over  books  and  the  deeper 
problems  of  human  life.  I  became 
drowsy,  and  threw  myself  across  my  bed. 
I  lay  upon  my  side,  with  my  knees  drawn 
up  and  my  hands  under  my  chin,  as 
babes  do  in  their  mothers'  womb. 

And  I  slept  and  dreamed. 

I  was  in  a  strange  place,  as  if  it  were 
the  ruins  of  an  Acropolis.  And  there 
were  columns  and  arches  and  halls  and 
colonnades  and  fallen  and  broken  cap- 
itals. I  stood  with  one  whom  I  knew 
not  and  who  spake   not. 


215 

And  off  to  the  right  I  could  not  see, 
but  I  knew  that  men  were  torturing  and 
slaughtering  many  cattle.  And  pres- 
'  ently  I  saw  one  great  dark-gray  ox  with 
a  mad  plunge  and  struggle,  break  out 
into  a  field  away  from  the  slaughterers. 
Of  such  fierce,  frantic,  wild  beauty  I  had 
never  seen  an  animal  before.  His  long, 
graceful  horns  were  like  polished  ala- 
baster tipped  with  ebony.  His  eyes, 
nostrils,  and  hoofs  were  black  as  jet,  and 
surrounded  with  silver.  His  flanks  were 
like  arches  of  light. 

Across  the  great  field  he  galloped 
away,  not  caring  for  fences,  ditches  or 
furrows.  Men  gathered  in  pursuit  from 
every  direction.  Some  were  on  horse- 
back with  lassoes  and  spears,  and  others 
ran  on  foot  with  javelins  and  ropes  and 
thongs.  They  entangled  him  in  ropes 
and  chains,  and  attached  to  them  sleds 


216 

and  logs  and  horses  and  men.  Still  he 
plunged  on,  never  attacking  his  tor- 
mentors, never  resisting  except  by  flight. 
How  I  wished  he  might  go  free  !  How 
I  wished  he  knew  I  wished  him  to  be 
free! 

Presently  he  tore  himself  loose  from 
the  thongs,  and,  outstripping  all,  came 
plunging  through  the  ruins  where  we 
stood.  He,  whom  I  knew  not  and  who 
spake  not,  hid  behind  a  wall.  I  stood  in 
an  arch  through  which  the  ox,  who  was 
almost  upon  me,  must  surely  pass.  Too 
late  for  flight,  I  leaped  and  caught  the 
keystone  of  the  arch,  and,  drawing  my- 
self up,  hung  suspended  until  the  frantic 
animal  should  gallop  through  beneath 
me.  To  my  consternation,  he  stopped 
suddenly  beneath  me,  and  his  great 
white  horns  were  touching  my  body. 
When  I  could  cling  no  longer,  I  let  my^ 


217 

self  down  upon  his  horns,  which  changed 
to  be  the  gentle  arms  of  a  great,  beau- 
tiful woman.  She  placed  me  standing 
'  upon  the  ground,  and  I  was  not  afraid  of 
her,  but  I  was  as  much  afraid  of  her  pur- 
suers as  she  was.  And  I  remembered  I 
had  wished  the  ox  to  be  free. 

''  I  cannot  endure  their  pursuit  many 
days  longer  ;  how  shall  I  escape  ? "  she 
said  to  me  with  a  calm,  unresentful,  and 
infinitely  patient  voice.  I  thought  she 
felt  she  might  be  wronging  her  pursuers 
if  she  escaped  from  them  immediately. 

With  this  I  began  to  climb  down  a 
steep  precipice,  which,  I  regretted,  she, 
as  ox  or  woman,  would  hesitate  to  at- 
tempt ;  and  I  said  to  her,  or  to  the  ox 
(I  cannot  remember  which)  : 

''  Down  through  this  deep  valley,  and 
over  that  sunlit  hill  yonder,  they  cannot 
follow." 


218 

Then  I  awoke  and  heard  the  chimes 
of  evening  church-bells,  and  I  knew  that 
women  were  still  praying  and  suffering 
just  as  they  had  done  for  thousands  of 
years. 


In  a  Certain  Country. 


In  a  certain  country  there  were  five 
table-lands  or  plains  between  the  shore 
of  the  sea  and  the  summit  of  the  moun- 
tains. The  plain  nearest  the  sea  was 
the  lowest,  and  each  successive  plain  was 
higher  than  the  preceding  one. 

And  it  so  happened  that  the  Govern- 
ment of  that  country  decreed  that  if 
certain  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  lowest 
plain  struggled  hard  and  contended  with 
one    another    (often    to    the   wounding 


219 

and  destruction  of  many),  the  survivors 
should  be  promoted  to  the  next  higher 
plain.  Here  the  operations  of  struggle 
and  contention  were  repeated  with  even 
greater  fierceness  and  cruelty ;  and  the 
survivors  were  elevated  to  the  next  plain 
above.  Thus  they  continued  until  they 
had  reached  the  highest  plain  of  all, 
near  the  summit  of  the  mountains. 

As  most  of  the  inhabitants  were  born 
on  the  lowest  plain,  and  as  the  numbers 
of  the  higher  plains,  even  to  the  highest, 
were  constantly  replenished  from  below, 
the  population  of  the  several  plains  re- 
mained about  equal ;  and  the  competi- 
tive contention  was  equally  keen  upon 
them  all, — even  to  the  highest ;  for  here 
the  inhabitants  were  in  mortal  fear  of 
being  thrown  down  again.  Indeed  it 
was  the  fate  of  some,  after  having 
gained    the    highest,    and    their   powers 


220 

began  to  fail,  to  be  thrown  successively- 
back  to  the  lowest  plain  again. 

But  one  who  had  gained  the  highest 
plain,  and  who  was  wiser  than  all  the 
rest,  complained  to  the  Government, 
saying  : 

''  I  have  been  deceived.  Here  I  find 
competition  and  struggle  more  severe 
and  cruel  than  ever ;  and  men  die  with 
a  look  of  contention  and  selfishness 
upon  their  faces.  I  will  return  to  the 
peaceful  place  of  my  birth,  and  listen, 
and  wait,  and  rest  by  the  shore  of  the 
sea." 

And  going  down,  he  told  all  who  were 
struggling  up  ;  but  they  hearkened  not, 
and  are  still  continuing  unto  this  day. 


THE  AUTHOR  AND  THE 
READER. 


The  author  of  this  book  is  not  a  doctor,  that  he 
wants  the  reader  for  a  patient ;  nor  a  lawyer,  that 
he  wants  the  reader  for  a  client ;  nor  a  preacher, 
that  he  wants  the  reader  for  a  pew-filler  ;  nor  a 
merchant,  that  he  wants  the  reader  for  a  customer  ; 
nor  a  teacher,  that  he  wants  the  reader's  children 
for  pupils  ;  nor  a  university  professor,  that  he  fears 
the  influence  that  appointed  him  ;  nor  a  politician, 
that  he  wants  the  reader's  vote  or  a  place  by  ap- 
pointment ;  nor  a  laborer,  that  he  wants  the  reader 
to  employ  him  ;  nor  a  banker,  that  he  wants  the 
reader  for  a  depositor ;  nor  an  editor,  that  he 
wants  the  reader's  subscription  ;  nor  a  mendicant, 
that  he  wants  the  reader's  aid  ;  nor  is  he  in  trouble, 
that  he  wants  the  reader's  sympathy  ;  nor  is  he 
rich,  that  he  needs  the  law's  protection  from  the 
reader's  envy  ;  nor  is  he  a  professional  charity  pro- 
moter, that  he  wants  the  reader's  contribution  ;  nor 


222 


does  he  desire  fame  or  power.  Nor  does  the  au-, 
thor  want  to  sell  this  book  to  the  reader  for  gain. 
Nor  is  the  author  a  rascal,  that  he  wants  the  reader 
for  his  victim ;  at  least,  if  he  really,  at  heart,  is  a 
rascal,  he  begs  the  reader  to  credit  him  with  having 
removed  himself,  as  far  as  possible,  from  all  induce- 
ment to  practise  his  rascality. 

Now,  therefore,  since  the  author  has  refused  to 
be  any  of  all  the  foregoing  sorts  of  persons,  in 
order  that  he  might  be  free  ;  and  since  the  reader 
may  belong  to  one  or  more  of  the  above-mentioned 
classes,  the  author  begs  the  reader  to  remember 
this  when  he  essays  to  pass  judgment  on  anything 
in  this  book.  And  if,  perchance,  the  reader  hears 
another  inveighing  against  this  book,  or  against 
the  author,  will  the  reader  be  pleased  to  ask  such 
person  if  he  is  as  free  as  the  author  is  ?  The 
reader  may  blame  the  author  for  being  a  fool,  or 
for  having  published  the  book  at  all,  but  not  for 
insincerity. 

If  the  author  shall  have  made  the  reader  wiser, 
better,  truer,  he  will  be  glad  ;  and  if  he  has  hurt  the 
reader's  feelings,  the  reader  is  to  blame  for  having 
read  the  book  at  all. 


223 

A  parson,  going  to  church,  walked  a  half-mile 
out  of  his  way  to  catch  some  boys  fishing  on  Sun- 
day; and,  having  caught  them,  said  : 

"Boys,  don't  you  know  it  hurts  my  feelings  to 
see  you  fishing  on  the  Sabbath  ? " 

The  boys  replied  : 

"  We  are  sorry,  sir ;  but  you  walked  a  half-mile 
out  of  your  way  to  get  your  feelings  hurt." 


Having  delivered  himself  of  the  foregoing  pref- 
aces and  apologies,  the  author  does  not  fear  even 
that  most  terrible  of  all  ogres,  the  Reading  Public. 


The  Trees  and  the  Gardeners. 


A  gentleman  once  employed  a  num- 
ber of  gardeners  to  look  after  his  trees. 
As  there  were  more  gardeners  than  there 
was  work  to  do,  each  gardener  felt  that 
not  only  his  fame  but  the  permanence  of 
his  situation  depended  upon  the  showing 
he  could  make  upon  those  trees,  when 
the  gentleman  should  return  at  the  end 
of  the  season. 

Each  gardener  wanted  to  select  the 
most  central  and  public  trees  to  exploit 
his  work  upon. 

For  this  reason  they  strove  with  one 
another  and  disputed  among  themselves 
as  to  the  treatment  each  tree  needed. 
One  would   contend    that  a  tree   leaned 


223 

'too  much  this  way,  and  he  would  bend 
it  in  the  opposite  direction  ;  another  de- 
clared it  leaned  too  much  that  way,  and 
again  strained  it  in  a  different  direction. 
One  contended  that  some  of  its  branches 
were  too  low,  and  lopped  them  off.  An- 
other declared  the  tree  was  too  high  for 
its  width,  and  he  cut  the  top  off.  An- 
other asserted  the  trunk  and  limbs  were 
too  slender  to  sustain  the  great  weight 
of  leaves,  flowers,  and  fruit  he  Intended 
it  should  bear,  and  he  slit  the  bark  up 
to  give  them  room  to  enlarge.  Another 
punctured  the  trunk  in  many  places  in 
order  to  make  the  wood  gnarly,  so  that 
in  fifty  years  it  would  make  beautiful 
sounding-boards  for  fiddles,  averring  that 
the  music  of  future  ages  depended  up- 
on it.  Another  lopped  off  the  side 
branches,  saying  they  were  so  long  they 
would  shade  the  roots.     Another  would 


226 

cut  off  all  the  original  branches  and 
graft  on  other  kinds,  so  that  the  same 
tree  might  bear  a  variety  of  fruit.  One 
carted  loads  of  manure  to  the  roots,  and 
another  carted  it  away,  saying  it  was  not 
the  right  kind,  or  that  it  was  too  much 
or  not  enough.  One  said  it  should  be 
watered  with  a  mixture  of  chemicals, 
and  another  that  it  should  be  kept  dry. 
One  insisted  that  half  the  blossoms 
should  be  plucked  off,  so  that  the  others 
should  come  to  better  maturity.  Some 
thought  it  should  be  forced  to  bear  and 
mature  earlier,  to  avoid  the  frosts  of  the 
season,  and  others  that  it  should  be  re- 
tarded. 

When  the  gentleman  returned  he 
found  his  once  beautiful  orchard  in  a 
sad  plight  indeed.  ''  Alas  !  "  said  he, 
"  the  number  and  officiousness  of  my 
gardeners  have  spoiled  my  trees ;  "  and. 


227 

taking  the  gardeners  to  an  obscure  part 
of  his  grounds,  he  pointed  out  to  them 
a  tree  they  had  overlooked,  which  was 
laden  with  fruit  and  was  well  grown  and 
symmetrical,  except  one  or  two  branches 
which,  by  their  irregularity,  gave  grace- 
ful prominence  to  the  general  beauty  of 
'the  tree. 

*'  This  tree,"  said  he,  **  has  flourished 
by  your  neglect.  If  you  had  only  put 
food  and  light  and  air  and  moisture 
within  reach  of  the  trees  and  then  let 
them  alone,  my  beautiful  orchard  had 
not  been  despoiled  and  barren." 

Morals  : 

1.  The  competition  and  officiousness 
of  so-called  educators  Is  a  harm. 

2.  The  child  should  be  put  among 
proper  environment  and  then — let  it 
alone. 


^  228 

3.  The  world  is  education-mad,  both 
ecclesiastical  and  secular. 

4.  Such  characters  as  Abraham  Lin- 
coln and  Jesus,  by  the  obscurity  of  their 
situations,  escaped  the  influence  of  the 
schools. 


About  the  Fable. 


The  words  fable,  fame,  fate,  infant, 
phase,  phantom,  phenomenon,  are  of 
similar  etymological  origin.  In  the  ul- 
timate idea  of  its  etymology  the  word 
fable  means  :  not  speaking,  yet  making 
to  shine,  to  appear,  to  make  plain,  to 
make  known.  And  this  is  just  what 
the  true  fable  does  ;  it  does  not  speak 
or  mention  the  truth  or  moral,  but  makes 
it    appear   with  great    boldness  through 


229 

describing  an  entirely  different  set  of 
circumstances. 

Of  all  sorts  of  writing,  successful 
fabling  is  the  rarest.  There  have  been 
fewer  successful  fablers  than  of  any  other 
sort  of  writer.  Only  two  or  three  fablers 
have  made  themselves  remembered  by 
the  world ;  and  yet  neither  the  allegory, 
the  parable,  the  simile,  the  metaphor, 
nor  any  other  sort  of  illustrative  form  of 
speech,  can  equal  the  fable  in  the  uni- 
versality of  its  appreciation  by  the  human 
race. 

By  the  utter  and  evident  disregard  of 
probability  in  the  statement  of  its  narra- 
tive, the  fable  throws  into  bold  relief — 
makes  unmistakably  clear  and  plain — 
the  inmost  traits  of  human  character 
and  the  rightest  rules  of  human  conduct. 

Eyery  poem  is,  in  some  sense,  a  fable, 
and  the  best  of  fables  are,  in  a  certain 


280 

sense,  poetical.  The  fable  need  not, 
necessarily,  be  humorous ;  but  it  must 
be  witty.  It  pleases  mainly  by  the  di- 
rectness and  simplicity  of  its  style ;  by 
being  utterly  impersonal ;  by  making  the 
reader  believe  he  advises  himself,  and 
by  reserving  the  point  of  the  story  to 
burst  upon  the  surprise  of  the  reader  at 
the  last. 

The  disposition  to  fable  seems  to  be 
natural  to  the  human  mind.  The  great- 
est of  men  have  delighted  in  fable. 
Even  children  have  an  inclination  to 
exaggerate  and  enfable  their  every-day 
plays  and  experiences  into  the  uncom- 
mon and  unknown. 

While  some  myths  have  seemed  to 
obtain  quite  universally,  they  disappear 
with  the  advancement  of  science  and  the 
improvement  of  reason  ;  indeed  the  myth 
is   the   product    of    faith   and   unreason ; 


231 

while  the  fable  accompanies  the  age  of 
paramount  enlightenment,  and  illustrates 
the  deepest  possible  insight  into  human 
motive  and  character.  The  fable  will 
accompany  civilization  and  literature  to 
their  highest  development.  The  best  of 
iables  will  doubtless  live  forever.  They 
will  live  when  their  authors  shall  have 
been  forgotten  amid  the  myths  of  the 
past. 

If  the  author  of  this  book  shall  have 
produced  even  one  successful  fable,  he 
shall  feel  that  his  thought  will  long  sur- 
vive to  influence  his  fellow-man. 


The  Newspaper-The  Theatre. 


The   greatest    civilizing    influences  of 
the  world   are  the   Newspaper  and    the 


282 

Theatre.  Ac  present  the  newspaper  in- 
fluence is  the  greater  of  the  two ;  but  in 
time  the  theatre  influence  will  over- 
shadow all.  The  author  cannot  take 
space  now  to  explain  why  this  is  true. 
These  two  greatest  of  all  agencies  have 
had  the  same  hand-maiden,  viz.,  Applied 
Mechanics.  They  have  also  had  one 
and  the  same  enemy,  viz.,  the  Church. 
From  this  heretofore  implacable  foe 
they  have,  as  yet,  one  danger  :  having 
failed  in  her  efforts  to  prevent  or  destroy 
them,  she  will  now  attempt  to  claim  them 
as  her  children,  and  pervert  and  control 
them  for  her  use. 

It  will  be  noticed  that  these  two  great- 
est civilizing  agencies  are  immaterial. 
Their  greatest  manifestations  of  art  and 
power  come  and  go  as  peaceful,  as  tran- 
sitory, as  evanescent  as  the  night.  They 
may  surpass  the  very  genii  of  the  myths 


238 

in  their  brilliant  and  wonder-working 
productions ;  but  when  the  curtain  falls, 
or  the  day  is  done,  they  are  no  more. 
A  new  day,  a  new  night,  brings  a  new 
expenditure  of  genius  ;  two  productions 
are  never  alike.  They  follow  one  an- 
other like  the  waves  that  expend  them- 
selves against  the  shore,  dissolving  back 
into  the  unresting  ocean  ;  but  they  are 
never  alike. 

Art  is  great,  but  she  has  always  sold 
herself  to  the  powers  that  be  ;  she  has 
never  fought  ahead  of  her  time  and  built 
bridges  for  humanity  to  pass.  Wherever 
she  has  been  free  she  has  been  noble  and 
ennobling. 

I  wish  these  three — Art,  the  Newspa- 
per, the  Theatre — to  have  freedom ;  and 
then  I  shall  not  despair  of  civilization. 


Two  Letters  to  Elza, 


[There  are  about  seventy  of  the  "  Letters  to 
Elza"  in  existence,  touching  many  social  subjects. 
Paul  Pinhook  is  the  author's  nom  de  plu?ne  to  his 
humorous  and  sentimental  writings.] 

My  dear  Elza  : 

I'm  tired  of  poor  people.  I  was  once 
poor  myself,  the  time  you  can  remember 
well ;  but  I'm  tired  of  them  now,  any- 
how.    They  are  disagreeable. 

Imagine,  if  you  can,  a  horse  like,  in 
most  respects,  the  average  civilized  horse, 
in  the  midst  of  a  clover-field  up  to  his 
knees  and  up  to  his  eyes  in  clover.  He 
is  sleek  and  happy  in  his  horse-way  :  or 
rather  would  be  happy  were  it  not  that  a 
multitude  of  poor  devils  of  horses  crowd 


230 

around  his  field,  starved,  bony,  hollow- 
eyed  ;  or  if  allowed  to  cross  his  pasture 
they  are  muzzled  and  dare  not  eat ;  some 
of  them  hoof-sore  and  dying.  Every 
sweet  clover-blossom  our  sleek  horse 
plucks  with  his  white  teeth  and  firm  nib- 
bling lip  is  coveted,  is  longed  for,  by  the 
perishing  lookers  on  ;  and  he  is  conscious 
of  it. 

And  yet,  he  dares  not  throw  down  his 
fence  nor  unmuzzle  them  ;  there  would 
not  be  one  clover  blossom  left — aye,  even 
the  very  roots  would  be  plucked  out,  and 
he  become  destitute,  starved  as  they.  I 
am  that  sleek  horse.      I  am  unhappy. 


Ah,  thou  meek  and  gentle  Jew,  who 
didst  take  neither  scrip  nor  staves,  but 
didst  pluck  thy  repast  from  the  berries  of 
the  field  :  thou  hast  taught  me  this  im- 
practical sympathy  for  the  starving,  the 


236 


distressed  and  the  forlorn  ;  and  I  am  un- 
happy. 


Yes,  Elza,  with  your  gentle  heart, 
when  I  say  *'  I  am  tired  of  the  poor,"  you 
will  understand.  I  was  born  poor,  I  was 
reared  poor ;  every  hard  and  burdened 
path  of  theirs  I  have  trodden.  When 
my  feet  were  bleeding  and  my  eyes  were 
dust-blinded  and  tearful,  did  some  one 
pity  me  then  ?  If  so,  I  knew  it  not.  I 
wish  I  knew  where  he  or  she  is  to-day  ; 
I  would  go  and  stand  by  the  side  of  that 
heart  of  pity  and  say  :  *'  Thou  art  like 
Jesus  ;  I  love  thee." 

But  I  am  tired  of  the  poor.  My  sym- 
pathy is  worn  out,  and,  I  fear,  is  becom- 
ing calloused. 

Knowledge  of  the  poor  leaves  you  to 
despair  or  to  become  calloused.  Dare  I 
wish  I  had  not  this  knowledge  ?     Dare  I 


237 

wish  I  had  been  born  rich  and  there- 
fore without  experience,  without  knowl- 
edge ? 

I  could  have  had  fine  theories  then  ; 
but  what  a  different  heart !  None  but 
the  soldier  knows  what  it  is  to  be 
wounded  and  left  to  the  darkness,  the 
unceasing  rain,  the  unpitying  night  and 
sky  of  the  battle-field.  Only  the  poor 
know  what  it  is  to  be  poor.  Only  those 
who  have  been  poor  can  have  and  know 
the  heart  of  the  poor. 

A  canopy  arches  the  way  from  the 
massive  steps  of  a  mansion  down  to  the 
curbstone.  Closed  carriages  with  their 
trappings  come  and  go  in  turn.  It  is 
night.  Halting  aside  upon  the  pave- 
ment are  a  man  and  a  woman  ;  a  small 
shawl  over  her  head,  the  Easter  bonnet 
of  the  poor.  A  basket  is  on  his  left  arm 
and    she    snuggles    close    to    his    other 


238 

elbow,  and  over  them  he  holds  a  cotton 
umbrella  ;  for  it  is  drizzling  and  a  keen 
wind  is  blowing. 

They  are  looking  toward  the  plate 
glass  window  ablaze  with  light.  The 
very  cost  of  the  glass  would  be  a  fortune 
to  them. 

They  start  to  go  away,  but  music,  such 
as  only  comes  from  the  homes  of  the 
rich,  speeds  out  upon  the  unpurchased 
air.  They  hesitate,  linger,  because  they 
love  music.  It  ceases  ;  they  say  some- 
thing low  and  gentle  to  each  other,  and 
move  on  into  the  darkness. 

Within  are  flying  feet,  encased  in  slip- 
pers so  delicate  and  white,  the  woman  on 
the  street  would  rub  her  hand  twice  upon 
her  apron  before  touching  them,  lest  she 
might  soil  them  ;  and  stockings,  and  laces 
and  lingerie  and  flounces  and  the  very 
gossamer    threads    spun    by    the    worm  ; 


239 

and  corsage  and  flowers,  and  jewels,  and 
flossy  and  fluffy  hair,  and  brilliant  eyes, 
and  wines  and  ices  and  banks  of  flowers, 
and  chandeliers  jewelled  with  lights. 

Elza,  I  have  been  on  both  sides  of  that 
glittering  barrier  of  glass.  What  was  I 
on  one  side  ;  what  on  the  other  ?  i 

Such  as  I  was  outside,  such  as  I  was 
inside  that  pane  of  glass,  and  such  as  I 
am  now,  I  am 

Your  unwavering, 

Paul   Pinhook. 


My  dear  Elza  : 

I  was  outside  of  the  glittering  barrier 
of  glass  that  night.  I  was  outside  in  a 
double  sense,  for  I  had  not  yet  gotten 
my  elegant  lodgings  ;  and,  as  I  have  be- 
fore told  you,  I  was  therefore  not  con- 
sidered a  person  of  sufficient  consequence 


240 


to  be  recognized  and  invited  by  people  of 
consequence. 

And  I  am  glad  I  was  outside  that 
night — outside  in  the  rain  and  the  dark- 
ness. My  heart  Is  different  now  from 
what  it  would  have  been  if  I  had  been 
inside.  That  hour  outside  was  worth 
many  a  year  inside.  I  heard  and  under- 
stood what  that  man  and  woman  said  to 
each  other  as  they  "moved  on  Into  the 
darkness." 

**  I'm  glad  they  have  some  pleasures. 
I  wish  we  could  know  they  love  each 
other  as  we  do,"  said  the  man. 

*'  I  wish  they  had  a  sweet  little  home 
like  ours,"  said  the  woman. 

Like  the  wandering,  homeless  wight  I 
was,  I  followed  them  ;  for  what  I  heard 
them  say  was  like  a  mist  of  light  that 
enhaloed  them  ;  and  it  led  me  on. 

Imagine  yourself,  if  you  can,  following 


241 

two  such  hearts,  two  such  lovers — amid 
the  rain  and  the  bewildering  dismal  shad- 
ows of  the  night. 

^  I  sometimes  do  queer  things — led  by 
the  impulse  of  my  heart — such  things  as 
a  woman  might  do  had  she  the  freedom 
of  a  man.  I  walked  past  the  cottage  I 
saw  them  enter.  I  hesitated,  stood  on 
tip-toe,  and  looked  through  the  bright 
window-panes  into  the  cozy  room  glow- 
ing with  the  light  of  an  open  fire  and 
a  lamp  that  stood  upon  a  table.  I  saw  a 
strong  man  with  tranquil  countenance 
and  hands  able  and  willing  to  labor.  I 
saw  the  hale,  capable,  cheerful  housewife 
in  an  adjoining  room  preparing  the  even- 
ing meal,  and  the  rosy  children  about 
them.  I  felt  guilty  of  almost  desecrating 
their  unconscious  happiness  by  looking 
upon  it.  Here  was  the  poet's  '*  Cotter's 
Saturday  Night." 


242 

I  walked  away  In  the  rain  and  the 
darkness.  I  thought  of  love,  and  of 
God  ;  and  then  of  splendid  poverty.  I 
felt  alone  and  dismal  as  the  night ;  I  had 
gotten  an  ideal  ;  I  had  found  human 
contentment.  I  was  lonesome,  I  say, 
but  I  felt  that  somehow,  somewhere, 
sometime,  I,  too,  should  find  contentment 
and  happiness. 

I  was  a  long  way  from  home — from 
that  ideal,  I  mean.  I  was  years  away 
from  it — how  many  I  could  not  tell.  I 
had  never  had  a  home  since  I  rocked  the 
cradle  for  my  mother  or  picked  up  chips 
for  her  in  the  old  wood-pile  on  the  farm. 
That  is  only  a  memory  now,  but  it  came 
back  to  my  heart  that  night  like  a  sigh 
from  one  who  has  been  weeping.  I  was 
tired-hearted  that  night  as  I  turned  my 
coat-collar  up  and  leaned  toward  the  rain 
that    came    swishing    into    my  face  as   I 


OF  • 

ITNIVEH: 


:43 


walked  solitary  toward  my  desolate  lodg- 
ings. I  went  up  one,  two,  three  flights 
of  stairs,  and  back  through  the  long 
narrow  hall.  Only  ashes  were  in  my 
grate,  and  only  ashes  were  in  my  heart. 
The  lamp  was  dim  and  the  air  damp. 
In  one  short  hour  I  had  seen  splendid 
poverty  and  honest  contentment,  and  I 
myself  was  an  example  of  intelligent 
misery.  I  was  miserable,  and  I  knew  it ; 
I  could  see  it ;  I  could  feel  it  ;  I  could 
almost  hear  it  in  the  mocking  silence 
of  the  damp  dead  air — but  I  did  not 
despair.  I  could  have  only  vaguely  told 
you  why,  but  I  went  to  sleep  that  night 
with  almost  impatience  for  the  morning's 
dawn  to  begin  anew  the  journey  of  my 
life ;  for  I  had  found  the  silencer  of 
despair  and  the  leaven  of  hope  in 
the  beautiful  ideal  of  the  Cottagers' 
Home. 


244 


The  next  day  I  wrote  you  one  of  my 
old  cheerful  letters — perhaps  a  shade 
more  tender — and  signed  myself  as  I  do 
now, 

Your  devoted, 

Paul    Pinhook. 


Tell  Me. 


Tell  me  who  opens  his  mouth  to 
speak  except  for  pay  of  gold  ;  or  who 
lifts  his  hands  and  bows  his  head  except 
that  laurels  may  be  placed  upon  his 
brow  :  tell  me,  and  I  will  hearken  unto 
him. 


I'M  Tired. 


I'm  tired  of  preachers  and  teachers 
and  book-writers.  I  wish  they'd  shut 
up  and  let  me  alone.  I  wish  they'd  let 
the  great,  tired-hearted  common  people 
alone.  We  are  tired  of  being  brayed 
at,  and  barked  at,  and  cawed  at,  and 
hissed  at.  Let  us  alone.  Wait  until  we 
ask  you  to  save  us,  and  educate  us,  and 
civilize  us.  Perhaps  when  we  think  on't 
a  little,  we  won't  prefer  your  way.  Go 
away  and  let  us  alone.     We're  tired  now. 

THE     END. 


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